


Simplify me When I'm Dead - A Downton  Abbey Rewrite

by Dilmah25



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Drama, Feminist Themes, Humor, Politics, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dilmah25/pseuds/Dilmah25
Summary: I always felt that there needed to be a little more development of the Crawley sisters on certain feminist themes. So this is a little bit of a rewrite with the Matthew and Mary romance taking centrestage ( there was so much unexplored potential there!).  It's also a little tongue in cheek.  Obviously I own none of this and praise be to His Lord Fellowes :). Also, on Fanfiction.com I am Amara25, I just couldn't remember my log in for over here. actually, I think I closed down the email previously associated with this account hence the change in name,





	1. Chapter 1

**Simplify me when I'm dead**

_This is mostly a Downton Abbey FanFic, taking some inspiration from RC Cobleigh, and trying to write a DA that is a little more satisfying. I want to focus on the lives of the Crawley sisters, so this is a little bit of a feminist narrative, highlighting the challenges of their kind of womanhood, and how they journey through this. The romance at the heart of it is Matthew and Mary, but this story is not all about romance. Hope you like it, please read and review._

Cliches give us certain truths. Such as, there are no atheists in foxholes. And, as Matthew Crawley, heir to the Earl of Grantham, lay down in the filth of his foxhole, he thought of God and godlessness and of the things that made him believe in the sacred. Music, nature, love. A pair of chocolate brown eyes swam into his vision. Yes, the love that he knew. Smiling, he slipped into unconsciousness.

Miles away, as the constant drizzle of the afternoon became the thunderstorm of the early evening, Lady Mary Crawley felt a swift and sudden chill. Startling her grandmother, she dropped her cup of tea onto the plush carpet.

That is Matthew and Mary now, in that time and in that place, separated but connected ( as they always would be). It will never matter what the circumstances but Matthew cannot rid himself from Mary and Mary cannot rid herself of Matthew. They have the kind of love that elicits great lines of poetry, they are entwined trees, twinn'd compasses. You get my general drift. The Other Storyteller gave us this love, this love for the ages, and we need it to play out. So let us defy him slightly and rework his story. Turn back the page a little and let us go to Downton Abbey as it was before the war, to a dinner party where the Earl and Countess of Grantham are hosting the son of the Viscount of Branksome, and a Certain Turkish Diplomat. See Lady Mary Crawley, resplendent in red and deeply infatuated by her good looking guest. She deftly dodges the bland attentions of the earnest Evelyn Napier and the shy but determined Matthew Crawley, sparkling in the smiles and glances of the handsome foreigner.

See Lady Mary unable to stop herself from following the Diplomat out to the hallway. See the Diplomat kiss her swiftly and forcefully, rousing in her equal responses of lust and revulsion. She admonishes him and returns to the drawing room, sitting by her mother and willing her burning cheeks to cool.

As Matthew Crawley goes home that night, he makes a resolution. However beguiling he may find Mary Crawley's icy disdain, he will not allow himself to follow her like a puppy. What, truly, has overcome him in these past months? He, Matthew Crawley, man of the moral high ground, feeling such infatuation for a woman who could appear so very cold? She was so damnably attractive, that was the thing. And yet, Matthew had also seen her softness. He truly felt guilt? Pity?, for usurping her wealth and estate. " _And I am to mean nothing in all of this?"_ Her words often struck him when he and Robert walked the estate making plans and starting developments. Mary knew the estate and the land. She deserved to be the one to build it in the future. Thoughts of the strictures and limitations placed on women through property law and inheritance carried Matthew through the rest of the night. Had Matthew been a different sort of man, he would have actively taken up this cause, through political writing or supporting the women's movement. Matthew is not that sort of man, but let us be glad that he feels deep empathy with the stagnant lives that women are often forced to lead in Edwardian times.

We have to pull ourselves away from Matthew's recumbent form- loath as we are to stop gazing at his gorgeous eyes- and turn our eyes to the Abbey because The Incident is ab out to begin. We swoop in on Lady Mary's bedroom where she lies in her bed, still slightly flustered from the events of the day. The attentions of the Diplomat is thrilling and disturbing. Let us remind ourselves that this Mary Crawley is still very young, and not yet the sophisticate she will eventually become. For all her aloofness, she is still a little naïve. Having been really kissed only once, in a perfunctory sort of way by Patrick Crawley, the determination and unbridled lust of this evening's kiss gives her much to ponder over. Did she like it? What did it mean for her body to react that way? She oddly wonders what it would be like to be kissed in that way by Matthew Crawley.

"Goodness me," thinks Mary, "has Granny managed to get inside my head?"

She reflects to herself that if her Grandmother could, she most certainly would.

But Mary is not to be left to her thoughts for very long. The stage is set. We have a bright, beautiful bedroom, lit by a candle and a fire. We have a young virgin in a flowing cotton nightdress. Enter the dastardly and handsome villain, dripping with animal sensuality and draped in a fine dressing grown.

The maiden gasps and orders him out, telling him that he is mad. He confesses to be in the grip of madness. She says she will scream. With the cool confidence of the practiced seducer, he tells her that if she does scream, she will still be ruined to have a man in her room. In the Other Story, Lady Mary Crawley, frightened, naiive and a little thrilled, does not scream.

In this story, Lady Mary screams.


	2. Chapter 2

Consider the scream of an Edwardian female aristocrat, brought up to know French and how to curtsey, always deeply aware of her society, and because of this, being really rather sensitive. Consider also that she knows well the cavernousness of the house she lives in, and can calculate her volume precisely. Lady Mary Crawley may still be quite young, but she is a deeply intelligent young woman. In her later years, many will remark how much she reminds them of Violet Crawley.

Lady Mary screams and it is a piercing sound. Panic enters the eyes of the Diplomat and he makes quickly to leave. Chance – or shall we say the hand of this writer- has his dressing gown caught on the handle of the door and he is delayed by one or two minutes. But it is enough. As he flees down the corridor, he runs right into Robert, Earl of Grantham.

"What the devil is going on?" The Earl glances from his night time prowler to the open door of his eldest daughter's bedroom, and very nearly commits murder.

"Give an explanation, sir, as to why I should find you fleeing my daughter's room at this time of night?"

The Diplomat – after all he is the villain of the piece- attempts a little swagger.

"Your daughter proffered an invitation, sir, how could I-"

He is cut off by what sounds like a hiss from the Countess, who, standing behind her husband, is trembling with rage.

"Cora, " says the Earl, "I think it is best that you went to Mary. "

The Earl motions to his wife and younger daughters – for by now most of the household is roused- to go to Mary's room.

"You will go back to your room, Mr Pamuk, and you will pack your things and see yourself to the Grantham Arms. Carson, please see to it that Mr Pamuk leaves this house within the hour. "

Bristling from his brows to his brogues, the butler is truly happy to see the gentleman out. The Diplomat notes that, even in his night attire, the butler is a significantly imposing sight.

Evelyn Napier- who has thus far remained at the Earl's side- makes a move to placate him, but Robert firmly orders his back to bed. He leaves Cora to care for Mary and decides to ring for Dr Clarkson in the morning. While Robert does deeply care for his daughter and is quite worried, he has a very strict understanding of the division between male and female worlds. Smiling gently at the housekeeper, who lingers awaiting further orders, he sends the servants and himself to bed.

In Mary's bedroom, the women gather around her in a circle. Edith is torn between the schadenfreude of finding her sister in a possible scandal, and genuine sisterly care. Sybil, our budding suffragette, is in high umbrage.

Cora gently strokes Mary's shoulders. "Are you all right my dear? Can you tell me what happened? How did he know to find your room?" Cora is angry and scared and confused, and her questions tumble over themselves.

"Oh I can't talk right now Mama. Must you ask so many questions!". Belieing the tears that still wet her cheeks, the face that Mary turns to her mother is an expressionless mask.

"Poor Mary. You've had a terrible shock." , says Sybil.

"Yes, why don't we ring for some hot sweet tea? Doesn't Granny always swear by sweet tea?". Edit's ringing of the bell brings Anna, already bearing a tray of hot tea and brandy.

In the quiet mandated by Mary, the ladies sip their tea. When it is over, they rise to leave.

"When you are ready, Mary, I will ask that you meet with me and Papa. We will need to know what happened. Preferably before you Grandmother does."

"Yes Mama."

Mary watches her mother and sisters leave the room, but, just at the end she stops Sybil. "Might I stay with you tonight?"

Outside the house, a match flares in the semi-darkness. Ignoring the glares of the butler, the Diplomat leans into his cigarette. A wasted night, he thinks, and a damn shame. He is not pleased to have been found out, and, to his credit, feels a modicum of guilt. The butler and a footman bundle him into the car and a glaring Irish chauffeur speeds the Diplomat away.

Mary Crawley hears the car as it leaves Downton and raises a silent prayer of thanksgiving that the Chapter is closing.

But this is Downton and our characters have not been written to have humdrum lives. Yes, something has closed. The events of tonight spell the end of girlhood for the three Crawley sisters, but it also begins their womanhood- perhaps the glorious and most difficult chapter of all.


	3. Chapter 3

In large households of old, servants are loyal to a fault Well, most servants. At least servants of the ilk of Mr Carson. At breakfast he gathers the servants and informs them that a despicable incident occurred, that no member of the family is at fault, and that neither he nor Mrs Hughes will condone any gossip. Above all, no one is to speak about the incident to anyone in the village.

Those servants who do know the details of the incident – with the notable exception of Miss O'Brien- agree with Mr Carson. The junior servants sigh. All the know are half whispers. All they know is that it concerns Lady Mary and the gorgeous Turkish Gentleman. Mr Bates notes that Thomas the footman looks fidgety and defiant. He cocks an eye at Anna and motions towards Thomas. Anna has a sudden moment of sheer clarity, and it is all she can do not to throw her butter knife at the footman.

Evelyn Napier leaves the house after breakfast, eager to catch an early train. He made apologies to the Earl and was silently, but firmly dismissed. He would have to hope that time and the gaiety of the London season allow him back into the good graces of the family.

Mary Crawley is outside, awaiting the summons of her Mama and is in deep self-doubt. Why did he come to her? Oh how she regretted her reckless, public flirting! How she despised herself at this very moment!

"Lady Mary?" It was Anna. "His Lordship would like to see you in the library."

"Of course."

As Mary heads back into the house, she sees her grandmother's car turn up the drive. Well, she thought to herself, if I was a Catholic, I would call this penance.

They say that a rumour can travel the world before the truth has even had the chance to put its shoes on. Consider then a rumour that concerns the fine family up at the house and is even begun by one of the protagonists of the story itself. The Diplomat, having had to arrive at the Grantham Arms almost at last call, spent a good evening drinking beer and regaling the clientele with the story of a lusty, ravenous young women, and he an obliging lover, only to be discovered by her family because the lady's moans were too loud. This is the way of some men, who, to hide their shame and guilt, will turn to boasting and lies. By midday, the story is all round the village. In the Other Story, the Diplomat is dead, and presumably his secret taken to the grave. Not so in this one.

At Crawley House, the maid Beth excitedly tells the story to Mrs Bird and Mr Moseley, only to be silenced by these senior servants. (In years to come, Mary Crawley will be thankful for the loyalty of servants.) Therefore, it passes that Matthew Crawley, who breakfasts early and soon is on his way to Ripon to work, does not hear about The Incident.

Isobel Crawley, who is largely more observant than her son, sees the smiles and the titters on her way to the hospital to oversee inventory. The nurses are too good mannered to tell her, but a young trainee, her eyes alight does ask " Were you up at the big house last night Mrs. Crawley? Is it true that there was a beautiful foreign gentleman?"

Thinking she has finally understood all the excitement, Isobel laughs and nods. "Yes he was certainly a treat for the eyes. All the young ladies were quite taken with him."

Poor Isobel! If only she knows what she has confirmed!

Up at the house, Mary is a facing a panel of her senior relations. Part of Mary is deeply indignant. She had not given in to his advances, must there be this cross examination. Reading her face correctly, Robert crosses to sit by her. " We just need to ascertain what happened last night. Are you hurt? Should we be taking action?"

"Moreover," said Cora, "how did he know which was your room? Why did he think he could come to you?"

The Dowager twitched and pursed her lips. "We must know everything Mary. That man has already spread his version around. The village is agog. I managed to get it from my butler who got it from the boy who brings the papers. No doubt your servants already know. He has certainly mastered the fascination of the townspeople. Although why anyone listens to a foreigner is beyond me."

"But what is the story Mama?"

Upon hearing it, the Earl shook his head. "We were alerted because Mary screamed. I think we were just in time."

"Mary?"

"He came to my room. He was unwanted. I screamed."

"And?"

"And what else is there? I'm ruined either way!"

"Don't be so melodramatic! You're not the tragic heroine in an opera.", retorts her grandmother.

"Oh Granny, don't be maudlin."

"Never mind your Grandmother," the Dowager sniffs at Cora for this, " you need to answer my questions."

"Mama, I have told you what happened."

"I know and I believe in your virtue, but you must admit that you did flirt with him in the most shocking way. I am still at a loss to know how he knew the location of your bedroom. The distance between the family rooms and the bachelor's corridor is so very distant."

"Mama do you really think-?"

"it is not what I think Mary. The story is already in the village. Our lives are tenuous, our reputations are tenuous. It is all you have, Mary. You flirted with him so publicly, so wantonly!

"This is unhelpful, Cora. I came here only to say that we must control the story. We can hope that deference and loyalty to the family will help it die down soon enough here if we do nothing to confirm it, but we must get ahead of this man before he takes the story to London."

"Will he be taken seriously?" the Earl, like all Englishmen of his time, was a little sniffy about foreigners

" It is not him, is it? How many suitors has Mary spurned these past three seasons? All we need is a slightly irked society mother. London society is vile, and how easy it will be to cast shade at the Earl of Grantham. There's already enough babble surrounding Matthew and his middle-class ness." The Dowager, knowing that she is right, is now enjoying herself immensely. "We need a plan Robert."

Mary, who has been silent because her mother's words have alerted her to her own insecurities, asks to leave. She is dismissed.

"I think, " says Cora slowly, "that before too much damage is done, we must see Mary married. She is already getting older."

"I agree my dear. The bloom is almost off the rose. Has she shown any partiality to Cousin Matthew?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He did seems eager towards her, though."

"I can't see that we can force things, " begins Robert, only to be shushed by his Mama.

"Robert, you must stop reading novels. It is time that we worked on Matthew, it is his duty to marry Mary. If he can rouse some spirit in him and get her interested, we may have her married in three months time. But I rather fear that it is up to us."

"How will we keep him from finding out about the incident? "

"No one in the village will repeat gossip to a member of the family. We will need to be careful, of course. We can work together. And I think, my dear, that we shall need another ally."

"So we are to be friends, then?"

"Allies my dear, which is so much better. Now come, we shall call upon Cousin Isobel."


	4. Chapter 4

The next two days pass in relative silence. The Dowager is busy exerting her significant feudal influence throughout the village. She relates to her servants the correct version of events, and encourages them to spread this story around, so as to provide counter narrative. She pulls patronage from any business that she hears favouring the less salubrious version of The Incident. Moreover, she plays her trump card, highlighting the deep xenophobia that the English are privy to. He is a foreigner. A foreigner. Could he truly be trusted against the word of an upstanding English woman? Surely it was that he tried and failed?

The Crawleys hold enough sway in Downton and indeed throughout Yorkshire, that soon enough the story is muddied or dismissed enough that no one is quite sure what has happened. Within the village, the combined efforts of Spratt, Carson and Molesley, operating sort of like a Butler's Mafia has kept the servants silent. This is not to say that Miss O' Brien or Thomas Barrow can be reigned in completely. They will both write letters to gossipy valets and ladies maids of their acquaintance highlighting that an incident certainly did occur.

The source of the spite of these two servants against the family is truly unknown. Partly, it is the fact that they are not in favour with Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes. It is also the fact that the life of a servant is hard, and often thankless. There is great respect and privilege in a life of service – as Mr Carson will remind us – but it is still the life of a servant. Looking around at the luxurious and sometimes wasteful life of the aristocracy is difficult. Why should so few be allowed so much? In the case of Miss O'Brien and Thomas, these reflections only curdled inside, leading them to acting in spiteful ways. Truly, it is unfortunate.

Between the story that the Diplomat himself will carry to London, and the aspersions cast about by Thomas and O'Brien via the medium of the post, Violet Crawley's real work will begin when the family goes to London for Sybil's debut. Many will not believe the rumours, but enough will know them to greatly reduce Mary's chances at securing a suitable catch. For that is the way of this world, that the man's reputation is of less matter than character of the woman, which hangs by the finest of threads. Pamuk was right that Mary would always be somewhat damaged because there had been a man in her room.

For a wonder, Matthew Crawley has not heard hide nor hair of the incident. He was a little put out by Mary's interest in the Diplomat and his natural grumpiness has not made him much of a conversationalist. Matthew, too, is not a gregarious man, and does not invite the kind of confidences that lead to gossip. Thankfully, too, in the law offices of Harvel and Carter, gossip about aristocrats isn't quite the order of the day.

It helps also that something of an alliance has formed between Cora, Violet and Isobel. For Isobel, she is glad of the friendships of two other women. And, as a forward thinking sort of woman, she has taken Mary's side on principle. Lastly, Isobel can see that her son is partial to Mary, and that he is himself a little lonely. Mary, while a little cold, would be the ideal guide for Matthew when he becomes Earl of Grantham. Isobel is also sharp enough to realise that in marrying Mary, Matthew would gain a certain kind of acceptance in the eyes of the society that he has now joined. Isobel, in her own forthright way, has been encouraging Matthew to seek out Mary's company.

Mary Crawley has had a tough couple of days. She has avoided her Mama, because the Countess still feels a need to have some details of the night explained to her. Cora, out of fright and shame, has been more than a little harsh with Mary, and Robert, noting Mary's rudeness to her mother, has also not been speaking to her favourably.

Mary finds this untenable. Although nothing occurred between her and the Diplomat, Mary is still feeling deeply ashamed that she indulged in behaviour that caused him to be so bold in his advances. Mary does not have an older sister or confidant to tell her that flirting will never justify the aggressiveness of Pamuk's approach, and so she spends these two days in quiet reflection. Mary is not only ashamed, she is angry. She cannot but help but reflect on the fact that she must marry, and marry well, and that wealth and independence can never really be hers.

She takes herself to her favourite bench under the sycamore tree and indulges her woes in reading The Vindication of the Rights of Women, finding Wollenstonecraft's studied indignation a balm to her current mood. She is so lost in imagining herself as the independent heiress of Downton Abbey that she doesn't hear Matthew until he is almost upon her. She looks up at him, still half-dreaming, and notices the piercing nature of his blue eyes. Eyes that seem inquisitive, firm and deeply determined. Determined? Why would Matthew look determined?

"Don't tell me that this is another scolding!" she exclaims, looking up at him defiantly.

"Not at all, Mother and I have come to tea. I saw you out here and thought I would say hello and escort you back to the house."

"And leave your mother to enter alone? Your actions smack of pity, Mr Crawley."

"They are most certainly not. Why is it that I find you in such a mood? I thought after all this time, and my efforts with the entail, your ill feeling towards me had dissipated."

"My ill feeling is not towards you."

"Then I don't see why we can't have a pleasant conversation. Talk about the weather. Talk about the book you are reading. And if your ill feeling is not towards me, then what is it that makes you so prickly?"

"My life annoys me. Not you. Here I am stuck in a waiting room, waiting to be married. Having really no other use than that. I cannot do anything, be anything but a model of virtue and grace. I suppose to me you are a symbol of the independence I cannot have." She shrugs and looks away, aware that she has been somewhat more forthright with him that she expected to be.

"You know I wish I could change things for you, Mary."

"I wish I could change things for me, Matthew."

"You've never called me Matthew before."

"Don't get too excited. It is your name, is it not?" She turns a sardonic expression towards him, and looks him full in the face.

"Can we be friends, Lady Mary?"

"That is for the heavens to decide, Mr Crawley."

Standing, Mary preceded him to the house, her mood somewhat lifted. Matthew Crawley, who has in the duration of this conversation, actually started falling in love with Mary, has to stop himself from bounding into the house.


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter stays pretty close to canon, mostly because I deeply enjoyed those episodes. Thank you to those who have reviewed!

And so the weeks pass, and we find ourselves in the days before the Downton Flower Show. Mary's life has resumed its usual routine, and the competition between her and Edith has once more intensified. Edith, determined not to be outshone by her sister, has reached out to Evelyn Napier to thank him for his tact, and to tell him that he ought not to feel too badly about the Incident as it seems to have not had far reaching consequences. Evelyn has written back, grateful that the Crawleys do not think too badly of him. A steady, if not empassioned correspondence has sprung up between them. Edith is aware that it may not lead to a love affair, but the success of her instincts leads her to have more confidence in herself when entertaining male company at the house.

Therefore, Mary and Edith arrive at the Flower Show preparations with their grandmother with some sense ( at least on Edith's part ) of being equals. Mary watches with amusement as Isobel and Violet parry over the worth of the elder Mr Moseley's roses and wonders her grandmother regrets the friendship she had been showing Isobel lately. Edith walks away to attend to the stall provided by the Head Gardener of Downton Abbey. Mary hears a laugh behind her. She turns to greet Matthew.

"I am afraid that Mother is not used to having such an equal opponent as Cousin Violet."

"Granny could do with a thorough shaking down. But if you repeat that, I will call you a liar."

"Haha. Were I a betting man, I would put my money on Cousin Violet to pull the rug out from under Mother's feet."

"And that Cousin Isobel will remaining standing on the rug well after it's pulled away."

They laugh easily together, the camaraderie of friends. Matthew notes with annoyance that he wishes so very much for something more.

"What brings the Great Lawyer to our frivolous little flower show?"

"I'm interested in the village, in its highs and lows. I will be part of it one day, so this is work for me."

"Of course, the serious life of Matthew Crawley."

"I play too. I'm coming up tonight for dinner. I hear there is to be a big party."

"Oh, only some dreary neighbours."

" Well then, maybe I will shine by comparison."

"Maybe you will."

You'll notice that this is a little like the Other Story playing out on your screens. There will be points of intersection, of course, for this is still the same story, with the same characters, just on a different stage.

The party that night is Downton at its best. Sir Anthony Strallan is there, meant as another possibility for Mary. While Cora and Violet are pleased to see that Mary and Matthew are getting on, the friendship is not evolving fast enough for them. The hope is that Strallan's presence will stir Matthew towards a less gentle courtship. Violet is quite disappointed with Matthew's lack of direct courting of her granddaughter, but supposes that jocular friendship is how the middle class do things. Tedious people.

Mary is not in the best of moods, having been instructed by Cora to pay attention to Sir Anthony tonight. Edith is in a worse mood, having heard Mary's disdain for her lack of charms. As always, with Downton, the stage buzzes with possibility. At dinner, Sir Anthony is seated next to Mary, and proceeds to enumerate to her the various new modern methods for farming large estates. Under close observation from Cora, Mary smiles and nods and does her best to look interested. She relieves herself with frequent glances to Matthew who sits on her other side.

When she is finally released, she wastes no time in engaging Matthew about his scheme for developing the cottages. They are halfway through discussing some ideas when Sir Anthony cries "Good Lord" and spits out his dessert.

Mary cannot help herself. She hides her face in her napkin, catches Matthew's eye and descends into giggles. When the ladies rise to go to the drawing room, the smile she gives Matthew contains, almost, something a little warmer than friendship. His company has made the dinner bearable. More than bearable, if she is honest.

Mary enjoys herself mimicking Sir Anthony to the delight of some of the ladies. Edith gives her a self satisfied smirk and basks under her mother's praise for taking care of Sir Anthony. Mary suddenly realises that Edith may well usurp her in the marriage stakes and turns cold eyes to her. She accepts her sister's challenge and , when the gentlemen arrive, easily claims Sir Anthony's attention. Edith, not to be deterred, crosses to Matthew and engages him in conversation.

Unfortunately our Matthew is not to be so easily swayed in the focus of his attention. Neither is he one to take being ignored very slightly. As soon as he can extricate himself from Edith, he makes his excuses and leaves. Turning to look for him, Mary realises that he has left and finds herself to be deeply distressed. Oh why can she never get it right? And oh how much it suddenly matters than Matthew be around! Of course, it is because he is youthful company, but she still feels a sense of loss.

Edith, in the meantime, has crossed to Sir Anthony and re-engaged him in a conversation about what modern farming means for tenant farmers who are more used to traditional models. Sir Anthony has had the most wonderful evening, the recipient of not one but two lovely young ladies. At the end of the night, feeling quite braced, and with thoughts of remarriage in his head, he goes home and resolves to see more of the Crawleys.

Our Mary is not a passive heroine. Troubled by her treatment of Matthew, and genuinely attempting some changes in characters following The Incident of the Turk in the Night, she wakes the next morning and pens her cousin her quick letter.

Dear Cousin Matthew,

I hope you don't mind this note. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your company last night. I must apologize for my behaviour in the drawing room. I had a rather silly bet going with Edith, and you must know by now that any chance to get the better of Edith is not a chance I can give up.

Do forgive me. You mentioned you would like to take me around the cottages some time. I'd love to take you up on your offer, if it I still may.

Your friend,

Mary

A reply comes in the evening post:

Dear Cousin Mary,

There is nothing to forgive. I am glad to have been good company.

I am afraid I have little patience for parlour games, however.

Your friend,

Matthew.

Mary admits herself to be a little stunned by the brevity and directness of his reply. She does not know that Matthew is as stubborn as she is, and perhaps a little too proud. It will make for a passionate marriage in the years to come, but for now she is simply taken aback. For the first time, Lady Mary is a little unsure as to what her next move must be.

She sees him at the Flower Show and decides to try once again. "Matthew, I'm glad you are here. I must tell you about the bet that Edith and I had-"

"Another time perhaps, for now I must take care of my mother."

Mary watches him walk away, and notes Edith's snicker behind her. "I'm so sorry Mary. It seems that not all men are charmed by you."

"I know that if I wanted to catch a man, I would stay away from those clothes and that hat."

On her walk back to the house, Mary wonders if she and Matthew will be able to mend their friendship soon. Certainly they will, but the mending may have taken longer had not Sybil's story intersected with theirs.


	6. Chapter 6

A little light history. The years prior to the First World War highlight an important political period in British history. In the 1900s, the Boer War had strongly divided public opinion, and the cost and conduct of the war had raised the question as to whether Britain was still suited for Imperial rule. The Liberal party, situated itself as the anti-war party, and soon began to have political and reforming influence. While in government, David Lloyd George introduces a people's budget that would tax incomes above 5000 p.a. The bill is defeated, but it spurs public debate. The short lived Independent Liberal Party shows the working class that they can have a voice, and the Liberal party's election success finally pushes through reforms in the House of Lords. A certain hope for a more equal political system is sensed. 1911 brings the national insurance act to provide cover for sickness and unemployment. These were truly radical acts. In 1912, Irish nationalists proposed Home Rule for Ireland, causing Ulster Unionists to form paramilitary forces of opposition. A civil war in Ireland seemed likely.

Morever, the fight for women's rights was truly picking up speed. The men in parliament – irregardless of politics- did not feel that women should have the right to vote. As such, women like Emmeline Pankhurst gathered together to bring the women's movements forward. Some of these women hoped to use education and negotiation to take the fight forward. Others chose hunger strikes and more violent tactics to stage their protests. Women of all walks are part of this, but especially the upper classes from the daughter of an Indian maharajah to Lady Constance Lytton, an aristocrat.

Sybil Crawley is coming of age in these political times, and being rather independent of spirit, has educated herself as best as possible about these issues. She raises them at the dinner table, and her passion is greeted with the kind of indulgence that adults give to a teenager with a cause. She is heard and lightly dismissed. Sybil is not one to be deterred. Another important thing about Sybil is her willingness to engage in lives very unlike her own. She patrons borstal charities and local initiatives that help folk who are in workhouses, especially single, pregnant women. These are not well accepted or successful charities, but much needed. Robert calls them her 'dreary causes', but Sybil is undeterred. Blessed with an open mind and a free spirit, she is allowing herself to be formed by these experiences. Sybil Crawley is, therefore, interesting. Mary is our indomitable heroine and Edith is industrious, but Sybil Crawley is the one to go down in history.

Sybil doesn't exclude Downton Abbey from her earnest efforts. She has already struck up quite a friendship with the housemaid Gwen and the two are working hard together to find the latter a position as a secretary. Sybil has also slipped a few pamphlets on the situation of women into the servant's hall when Mr Carson was not looking. Her sweet and unassuming nature allows her to do this, and while Mrs Hughes has discarded the pamphlets almost immediately, Sybil dreams of a little light resistance below stairs. It should also be noted that the fact that Mary has had to play defense over an incident where she is clearly the victim, has only made Sybil more determined in her desire to be part of emancipatory politics. What Sybil really misses is someone to discuss these burgeoning ideas with her, and to help her develop them. Cue a certain Irish chauffeur.

"Gracious, " says Robert one evening at the dinner table, " I allowed the chauffeur to take some books out of the library and you won't believe the stuff the man reads."

"What is it Papa? He won't read the Bible like a good little boy?" Mary smiles and looks for Matthew to enjoy her joke. But of course Matthew isn't there, he has been keeping his distance.

"He's reading Marx and Engels and John Stuart Mill, I ask you!" Robert raises his eyebrows at the ladies, enjoying the light entertainment of having a political chauffeur.

"That is very eccentric of you, Robert, an Irish revolutionary chauffeur! Does he prefer Home Rule?" asks Cora

"Do you know, I haven't really asked. I don't think Carson will thank me for doing so!"

"Indeed, My Lord." The butler mentally resolves to warn the chauffeur not to have any political discussions with any member of the family.

"Oh but how interesting, I'd love to hear what he has to say! You know we have a by election coming up, and the issues that the Liberals are raising are really-" Sybil is alight with excitement

"Really Sybil dear, you should be focussing on your upcoming season, not the views of the Liberal candidate. We don't need another Emily Wilding on our hands."

"Taking an interest in politics hardly means Sybil will try to throw herself in front of a horse, Papa." Mary will always come to the defense of her little sister. It's an elder sister's prerogative, that.

"Crikey, yes, I don't see Sybil chained to a rail and being force fed semolina.", chimes in Edith.

The family is most amused, and the topic is closed for the duration of dinner.

Once in the drawing room, however, Sybil approaches her Mama with some trepidation.

"Mama, you know I was talking about the byelection at dinner? Well the Liberal candidate is speaking in Ripon two days from now and I would really like to hear what he has to say."

"Oh Sybil dear, your Papa will not like that, he will not like that at all. Besides, these things get very messy and I would worry for your safety. Why not just wait and read about it in the paper?"

"Mama, I am always reading about it in the paper, just this once, with Ripon being so close, couldn't I go?"

"Oh let her go Mama. I dare say she will find a way to sneak out any way." Mary raises her eyebrows at her sister.

"Thank you Mary, for your unsolicited advice." Things between Cora and her eldest daughter are still a little frosty. "Very well Sybil, you may go, for twenty minutes. Branson is to take you there and back again, and you will watch from the car"

Xxx

The next morning, Lady Grantham summons the chauffeur to her morning sitting room. She is struck by his earnestness and the intelligence in his eyes and feels somewhat more comfortable in entrusting Sybil to him. She gives him detailed instructions as to how she expects the day to go and dismisses him with a smile and a welcome. Tom Branson, who had rather expected a cold and forbidding set of folk, walks away both bemused and elated at this turn up for the books.

Lady Grantham returns to her letters but is interrupted by Edith.

"Mama, I have something that may trouble you just a little. You may not know but I have been corresponding a little with Evelyn Napier. This morning he sent me this, and I thought you needed to see it."

_My dear Lady Edith,_

_Thank you for your note and the recommendations for some fiction reading. I look forward to perusing these titles. My line of work has not allowed me to indulge as much in fantasy and fiction and I am glad that you will soon correct my ignorance of such worlds._

_My letter today will deviate somewhat from Twain and Bradford, for I wish to bring to your attention a little development connected to the grief that was visited upon your sister Mary during my last visit to Downton. The version of the story as told by Mr Pamuk has, unfortunately, been heard in London. To the best of my ability I have dismissed it, of course, but rumour will out. It would, I think, have lesser impact if the gentleman concerned was not the source of the story itself. He is charming and well liked, and there are, I am afraid, many ladies who have enjoyed his company_ dans la chambre _who, whilst protecting their own reputations, will be able to pass the story on as more fact than fiction._

_Mr Pamuk left England yesterday, and I took the opportunity to visit him and challenge his story. I hope that your family will not mind that I took such a liberty. Pamuk, I must admit, was a little apologetic on being challenged, and confessed to feeling some guilt. However, he did maintain that he felt a certain confidence in taking the steps he did as he was quite convinced of Lady Mary's attraction to him. It pains me to say that on this point, I could not challenge him. He also noted that his retelling of the story had simply come to mean to him nothing more than a little 'party fascination', something to keep the evening lively. I was deeply disgusted by this admission, and we did not part cordially. He is gone, and hopefully will soon be nothing but a memory._

_I hope you do not mind that I have related this to you. I feel rather responsible that it was I who brought him to your home. Please do let your parents know that if there is anything within my power that I can do to assist with this situation, I will surely do it._

_Kind regards,_

_Evelyn Napier._

Cora stroked her forehead for sometime.

"Was I wrong to show you Mama?"

"Of course not. Thank you Edith darling. Please do not show this to Papa or Mary, I will tell them myself. Could I ask you to please send Granny and Isobel a note inviting them to tea?"

"Certainly Mama. He is right about Mary's behaviour, you know-"

"Now is not the time Edith. I will also ask you to come back to this room after your errand to tell me all about your correspondence with Evelyn Napier."

When Edith has left, Cora lets out a long sigh. She looks at the books on her mantel, and says, almost accusingly to a volume by Miss Alcott, " You could have warned me."

Cora moves aside the letter she is working on and pens a friendly invite to Sir Anthony Strallan.

Xxx

Sybil has her day in Ripon. She is thoroughly excited on her way in, and cannot stop herself from engaging Branson on his views on the Liberal Party, the suffragettes and local politics. The find, in each other, lively and passionate conversational partners. They are both young and alive with idealism, and the conversation is spirited and free wheeling. The speeches in Ripon are not so. It is crowded and loud and messy. Sybil has disregarded her Mama and left the car, and Branson soon runs to her side and suggests that they go home. Isobel Crawley is also in the crowd, and seeing Sybil and Branson's distress, she too goes up to them and insists a departure. Only worry over Branson's position induces Sybil to leave, and her exuberance has her enter Downton with the most beatific smile on her face, a smile she carries through dinner.

At dinner, however, she and her mother are severely upbraided by her Papa for their actions, and a rather gloomy pall is cast over the proceedings. Sybil is in no mood to discuss things in the drawing room and retires early. She is, however, determined to catch the count at the by election, and wonders how she may do so. She bides her time, and, the next day, when Robert has come back from a walk with Jarvis, she approaches him to apologize. Robert has never been able to be angry with his daughters for too long, and he accepts her apology. She requests permission to be driven in to Ripon for a meeting of her borstal charity and is granted this. Of course, we remember what happens in the Other Story. The crowd is boisterous and itching for a fight. Sybil is injured and Matthew and Branson have to rescue her.

This time, however, they cannot take her to Crawley House, for Isobel, having gone to tea again at Downton Abbey has stayed to dinner. Sybil is taken back to the Abbey. Matthew goes in, first, and summons Mary. He explains to her what has happened, and they quickly take her to the small library. Mary calls for hot water and a cloth, and Matthew runs to fetch his mother.

Of course, Isobel arrives with the entourage of Robert , Cora and Violet. Cora almost faints and has to be tended to by Mrs Hughes and some smelling salts. Violet sits with pursed lips while Isobel skilfully tends to Sybil's wounds.

Robert is apoplectic. "What is the meaning of this? Who let her go! It's Branson! He shall be sacked!"

" Oh Papa, I truly don't think it had anything to do with Branson. I know Sybil was keen to go-"

"Truly Robert, when I came on the scene, he was trying to get her to leave, and was trying to calm the crowd. I just think it was an unfortunate event."

"I shall still speak to him in the morning. And thank God for you Matthew, you've quite saved the day."

Matthew doesn't really know how to react to this, but cannot help glancing at Mary for her approval and praise. The smile she gives him lifts him a few feet in the air.

"You must be tired and hungry. Let me get you some sandwiches. " Mary feels a certain duty of care, she is so pleased to see him after what has seemed like months.

Sybil, by now, has roused a little, and is given a thimbleful of brandy by Isobel.

"Sybil dear, are you all right? You should go to your room and rest, " says Edith, hoping to stop her Papa from any altercation tonight.

Robert keeps his counsel. For now. He decided to focus his attention on reviving Cora and helping her to her room.

Hazily, Sybil assents. "I'm allright, I'm allright. I will go up.. if you will help me." She looks with gratitude to Cousin Matthew.

He smiles. "Of course.", and proffers his arm.

Mary, returning to the library after ordering Matthew some sandwiches, is surprised and shocked at the sight of her younger sister, draped on Matthew's arm and smiling up at him. He smiles down at her, and the picture is just too intimate for Mary to handle.

"Goodnight Sybil darling.", she says, more so to call their attention away from each other.

Matthew looks up at her and notes the distress on her face. As he walks up the stairs, he smiles to himself. The look on Mary's face has given him confirmation that, if she is not in love with him, she is in very near danger of doing so. In all the little skirmishes that he and Mary have engaged in, he rather feels that he just may win the battle.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for reviews and comments. I'm seeking a beta, any volunteers? I actually like injecting some humour into these chapters. The years with the war will likely get a little bit murky. Enjoy, please review, follow etc._

Tom Branson spends an uncomfortable half hour that evening in the office of Mr Carson.

"The Crawleys are an old and noble family. Their children are our special responsibility, Mr Branson. We do not take them to political affairs where they may be the subject of scandal or hostility. Surely tonight you have seen the worst of what could happen!"

"I am so sorry Mr Carson. I did not know where I was taking her, truly." Branson is almost in tears.

"There now my boy. A lesson learned is all. Go into the servants hall and have some tea. Mrs Patmore has left you some bread and cheese.", says Mrs Hughes kindly. She cannot but help feeling motherly toward this boy.

When Branson has left, she turns firm eyes to Mr Carson, "Leave it be, he's suffered enough tonight and His Lordship is likely to sack him tomorrow."

However, his Lordship does not sack the chauffeur. Following a rather stormy morning with Sybil, he endures a stormy mid-morning with Mary and Cora and decides that while Branson is not to be sacked, he will still be disciplined. The poor man is dispatched to the Dower House, where he will spend a week driving round the Dowager. It is certainly a punishment, but one that is laced with Mary's own sense of humour. She is not sure who will come off worse. The revolutionary or her tight lipped Granny. She rather feels that it is the girls who are to be punished, for they will now have to contend with Pratt, who is certainly less easy on the eyes.

Branson does not leave the house entirely empty handed. The younger footman slips him a parcel on his way out.

A note reads:

_Dear Mr Branson_

_I must apologise sincerely for the trouble I have caused you. But thank you for being my comrade in arms! There, is that a socialist speech? I do not know enough of socialism, but perhaps you would be so good as to let me know what I should read? I did enjoy our conversation the other day._

_Enclosed please find a tract on women in workhouses that I think might be of interest to you. Perhaps we may find some time to discuss it when you are back from your exile? Please send word through Gwen._

_Your friend,_

_Sybil Crawley_

xx

Mary, dressed for an afternoon ride, and wondering what Matthew Crawley does do on his weekends crosses to the drawing room in response to a summons from her Mama. She enters to also find Edith and Sir Anthony Strallan.

"Mary dear. Sir Anthony has just bought a new car, and is happy to take you for a ride in it. Would you like to?"

"Indeed, I would be happy to take either of the two young ladies, " Sir Anthony smiles jocularly.

Before Mary has a chance to respond, Edith speaks up " Actually I would love to, we don't often get to do much recreational driving!"

Mary glares at her sister, but is relieved. "There you are then, Sir Anthony. But do ask me again." With a nod to her furious mother, Mary leaves the room.

 _How ghastly! Is Mama quite serious?_ Surely her situation is not quite so desperate. She is so very glad to leap on to Diamond's back and have him carry her away from her thoughts and her family. She rides out a little further than usual, and comes across her father and Matthew standing outside one of the tenant farms. They are deep in discussion and poring over a large document. Her father seems so engaged and interested in what the young man is saying, and, as they walk away to the next cottage, Robert squeezes Matthew's shoulder with deep affection.

Tears prick Mary's eyes as she realizes that her father finally has the son he always desired. The son she could never be. She watches them walk down the pasture and makes up her mind.

Xx

Lady Edith Crawley and Sir Anthony Strallan are having a glorious drive. The sun is high in the sky, the birds are in the trees, and all is right with the world. Sir Anthony is beside himself to be in the company of so beautiful and obliging a young woman, and Lady Edith is happy to be taking the lead from her sister in this game of suitors.

"I haven't been for a ride in such a long time."

" Did you often go out very much?"

"Yes, and my late wife would enjoy outings just the two of us in a trap and pony."

" We always remember Lady Strallan kindly."

"She was kind. And funny too, although not everyone got to see that."

"It's really rather wonderful isn't it, the way two people can know each other in a way that the rest of the world cannot?"

"Why Lady Edith, you show a maturity beyond your years in saying that."

"Thank you Sir Anthony. I have the advantage of observing my parents and their happy marriage."

"Quite, yes. Then have you made a study of marriage?"

"Is that not what all fine ladies are called to do?"

" You know Lady Edith, you are quite funny too."

Xx

_Dear Cousin Matthew,_

_I did not thank you properly for taking care of darling Sybil. She is so very precious to me._

_In return, may I offer my sincere friendship?_

_Mary Crawley_

Xx

The Crawleys come to dinner at the end of that turbulent week. After a lengthy consultation following Evelyn Napier's letter, Isobel and Cora have an understanding that Matthew will be brought to dinner as many times as it takes. For good measure, Sir Anthony Strallan is also in attendance, but his inclination for Lady Edith's company has now left Cora with one less chess piece to play. She and Violet are considering other young men who can be invited to a house party, and Mary will soon be awash with suitors.

Mary sits quietly through dinner. Matthew has not replied her letter and she wonders if she has lost him or if his attentions have truly shifted to Sybil. Indeed, in the conversation before dinner, he had make special pains to inquire after Sybil's health.

Mary is not one to be beaten, and when the conversation turns to Matthew's work at the law firm, she cannot resist.

"They say that it is impossible to be a servant of two masters. Can you give your time to the soliciting and still have enough energy for the estate?"

"As I have said before, I have evenings and weekends. I am still Robert's student."

"And might I say that he is doing a capital job!" Robert, awash with a fine merlot is beaming with fatherly pride at his heir.

"Be that as it may, the Earl of Grantham is the custodian of his estate. He is its steward, he cannot have divided loyalties." Mary has the bit between her teeth.

"Do you think so little of my ability?"

" I am not questioning your ability. I am merely pointing out that being Earl is not a part-time thing, or a hobby."

"I am not the Earl, yet."

Mary opens her mouth to retort, but is stopped by Cora who directs the ladies to the drawing room.

Isobel has noticed the sparks in the air and is quite pleased at Matthew being brought out of himself in this way. Isobel, having enjoyed a marriage of equals, has a different idea of courtship than Cora does. Cora, however, rounds on Mary the moment the ladies are out of earshot.

"You are so rude to Matthew, Mary! And you were rude to Anthony Strallan earlier! I was so hoping you would have taken that ride with him."

"Oh Mama, could I have really wanted Anthony Strallan when I refused Matthew Crawley?"

"Do I detect some partiality to Matthew Crawley? Oh Mary, you know you need to be married soon.."

Mary walks away from her mother and sits on her own with a book. Sybil comes to sit by her. The sisters read in silence and Mary thanks the universe for Sybil.

When the gentlemen enter, Edith goes to Sir Anthony, and Matthew approaches Sybil and Mary. Sybil makes a quick excuse and goes to her mother, leaving Matthew and Mary alone. Matthew does not want to remain in any disagreement with Mary and rightly suspects the reason behind her anger at dinner.

"I am sorry I did not reply to your letter. Is that why I was upbraided at dinner?"

"I am glad that you received my letter. I did not expect you to have the good manners to reply to it."

"Don't do this with me Mary, my patience is at an end."

" _Your_ patience?"

"Why didn't you answer my letter?" Mary feels she has to know

"I didn't know what to say."

There is silence between them for some time. Mary has regretted her outburst at dinner, and decides to introduce some levity.

"I should have sent the letter with a warning. I think Sybil has quite a crush on you, you should be careful."

He smiles and looks at her with a smile. "Well at least that's something no one would accuse you of."

"I don't know." Matthew's heart skips a hundred beats.

"Don't you? Shall I remind you of some of the remarks you have thrown my way, not least at dinner?"

"I am an ardent social commentator. A critic. You shouldn't pay too much attention to the things I say, they are meant more to amuse me than anything else. Only a fool would take me seriously"

"Then I am a fool. Your opinion means very much to me."

Mary glances quickly at the earnestness in the eyes of this man who is quickly moving from dull to very dear.

"Friends?"

"Friends."

Isobel Crawley, keen eyed as ever, feels like ringing for champagne.


	8. Chapter 8

There are yet two months to go for the London season and Violet and Cora, while happy to see Mary and Matthew becoming friendlier towards each other, still need for Mary to be affianced before she goes to London. A small house party is arranged , and invitations issued mostly to known and eligible bachelors.

Edith has convinced her parents to invite Evelyn Napier, and while Cora is unsure, Robert feels it prove that nothing untoward happened during his last visit.

In no time at all, Downton is a flurry of activity as various members of the landed gentry descend upon the house. Carson is in his element, and has recruited Mr Moseley for some additional help. It is too early for a shooting party, but it is March and so a variety of picnics, rambles and outdoor sports are organized to keep the young men occupied.

The first to arrive is Tony Gillingham, a close friend of the girls from childhood, and he brings with him the racing ace Henry Talbot. A very quiet Evelyn Napier is accompanied by a young man called Charles Blake. There are a few others- men and women – who make up the party, but we are only concerned with the names listed here for the purposes of this chapter and also this story as it carries on. As we enter into the years of the war, they will come back into the lives of this family again.

Tony Gillingham is handsome in a rough sort of way and Mary has to admit that she never has thought of him as a husband. Not that Mary isn't open to anything else. Nothing is settled with Matthew, and while she cannot deny that she has feelings for her cousin, he has not intimated to her anything outside of friendship. A vigorous friendship, indeed, but Matthew has not suggested himself yet as a lover. Evelyn Napier has glanced her way a few times, but Mary notes that much of his conversation is directed towards Edith. Has she missed something there? When did Edith and Evelyn become friendly? Charles Blake just looks uncomfortable in his skin, but Henry Talbot now. If there was going to be a proper rival for Mary's attention this weekend, it was most certainly Talbot. He was handsome in the conventional way, but more than that, he had that je ne sais quoi that most sportsmen carry.

Tony, Charles and Evelyn, with their titles and estates are the most eligible options for Mary, of course. Yet, she cannot help feeling deeply intrigued by Talbot and he by her. _At least it will be a distracting weekend._

xx

Sybil is mostly annoyed. Tom Branson is back from exile and she is very eager to find a moment to speak with him, but with guests crawling all over the house, there is no moment when she can slip away. The two sons of the Duke of Merton seek her out immediately, and Sybil is obliged to keep them company all weekend. She is delighted, however, to find a little brown paper parcel in her room when she goes up to change.

_Dear Lady Sybil,_

_I am most obliged by your letter and gift to me. The tract made for inspiring reading. I attach some essays of Mr Marx from his time in New York. Please do not be alarmed by this choice. I hope you do not mind this humble gift. I have entrusted it to Gwen as you instructed._

_With best wishes,_

_T. Branson_

Xx

Edith is having a wonderful weekend. In attendance are both Evelyn Napier and Sir Anthony Strallan. At While it is certainly Strallan who has the priority of her affections, she has a friendship with Evelyn that she would certainly like to explore. During tea time, Robert notes with surprise to his wife,

"This weekend is for Mary, but it would appear that Edith too has suitors sparring for her hand."

"I know who I would prefer. Will Edith judge them sensibly?" Cora wishes she had a sign emblazoned with "choose E.N" on it.

"What's to judge?" joins Mary archly, "They're both as dull as paint."

Her Mama gives her a quelling look and Mary moves on to join in the conversation between Tony Gillingham and Charles Blake.

"I don't think I have much faith in the future of estates such as Downton in the foreseeable future. Truly I think it may well be the time for the aristocracy to start thinking of itself differently. ", says Charles Blake.

"Come now my dear chap. The aristocracy is the bedrock of British civilization. Like tea or scones or the royal family." Gillingham is a little shocked at his former army companion.

"You forget that I too stand to inherit a pile like this Gillingham. At the very least, the estate must be of use. The success of the liberal party is really due to the shocking conditions in which the working class find themselves."

"Mr Blake you sound a little too like Cousin Matthew, my father's heir. He, too, wants to change the estate so that it may be more 'useful'. Whatever that means."

"It means that we cannot live as if we are entitled to it."

"Aren't we? The Crawleys have held the fort for centuries. Surely we are entitled to something."

Gillingham laughs and is reminded of how much he has always admired Mary's wit. "That is true, Mary. You know it's been a while since I heard the history of the Crawleys. Maybe you can take me on a tour of the house tomorrow and tell it to me?"

"I will, if Mr Blake has not taken me to the guillotine by then. Some cake, Mr Blake?"

Blake takes the proffered pastry with good grace. "I shan't if you promise to introduce me to this wonderful Cousin Matthew."

Mary agrees to do so, and moves on to engage Henry Talbot in conversation. She spends an amusing twenty minutes being told of motors and oils and racing through France before the gong is rung and the company is dispersed for dinner.

While Mary is having a good time, her mind is still heavy with the last time Evelyn Napier visited. She talks to the young men and enjoys their conversation but does her best not to stay attached to anyone for too long. She feels so under surveillance, so cautious, so untrusting, even of someone like Tony Gillingham, who she has known for so long. She makes a mental note to see if Sybil will accompany them on their tour tomorrow. It does not pass her notice that she has no qualms in being alone with Matthew Crawley. And yet how she wished that Matthew Crawley did not always float to the top of her thoughts.

Xx

The first evening passes with little drama. On the next day, Matthew and Isobel join the party at the house for a country hike followed by luncheon. Isobel, it must be noted, is a little miffed. She had thought all along that the plan was to allow for Matthew and Mary to fall in love. As far as she could see, the friendship blossoming between them would surely, if slowly, reach its teleological end. She did not understand why Violet and Cora needed to invite all these eligible to Downton.

What she does not know is that Violet is a Field Marshall par excellence, and Cora an able and willing general. With the goal of Mary's marriage in mind, they are willing to send as many soldiers over the top as possible, until such time as the deed is done. They would prefer Matthew above all others, of course. They both like him, and it would make things so very tidy. But Violet and Cora refuse to take any chances. Robert simply prays that Mary will eventually see the sense of Matthew.

The hike proves of some interest for any keen observer. Sybil walks with the Merton brothers, and Edith alternatively with Evelyn Napier or Anthony Strallan. Mary chooses Henry Talbot as her walking partner. Matthew is deep in conversation with Charles Blake, but finds that every time he raises his eyes to search for Mary, her eyes are on him too. Matthew feels a certain kind of confidence. He knows he has won the girl, he simply needs to be patient.

Mary, however, is not sure. She finds Talbot refreshing. Indeed, he has no estate or title, and therefore isn't even an option for her. It makes for a conversation devoid of art and game, and Mary can let her guard down just a little and a young girl as she walks. Talbot is cursing his lack of advantages, because the beguiling Lady Mary has quite stolen his heart. If Talbot was the sort of man who wrote poetry, he would have composed quite a few sonnets by now, odes to her dark hair, her porcelain skin and so on. Mercifully, we are saved from all of that.

"Do you think we could stay in touch after this party is over?", Henry asks.

"I don't see why not. Don't expect me to turn up to a race or anything, but I'd be happy to read about your experiences. It really is quite thrilling, all your dashing around."

"You have my word. When do you get to London for the season?"

"Early I should think. My sister debuts this year, so we will be rather busy. I'd be happy to invite you to the ball, of course."

"I look forward to it. Might I reserve a dance?"

"Why not?"

They have caught up with Blake and Matthew by this time, and they listen in to the debate between the two heirs-in-waiting and rather revel in the fact that neither of them – Talbot or Mary- have to shoulder the burden of an inherited estate.

After luncheon, everyone retires to their rooms, for there is to be dancing that evening. Robert has engaged a band from Ripon and the carpets in the Great Hall have been rolled back in readiness.

Mary, Edith and Sybil dress with excitement. Sybil finishes early and runs to her mother's bedroom, hoping to catch her parents before they go down.

"Edith darling, what is it?"

"Papa, I wonder, might Sir Anthony have a few minutes with you after dinner?"

"Edith, has he proposed?"

"No, not yet Mama, but he said he has something particular to ask me, and wanted to know if I could secure him a few minutes with Papa."

"That sound promising. Is it your intention to say yes, Edith?" Robert half hopes that Edith will answer in the negative. However, Edith feels great affection for Sir Anthony, and, besides, he is the first to ask. Poor Evelyn! He has hoped for one of two Crawley sisters, but loses one to a great love and the other because he was not the first to propose.

Edith only smiles at her parents and goes to join her sisters in the drawing room.

At dinner, Mary is seated between Talbot and Matthew and has possibly the best night of her life. This is a good thing, because the announcement that Edith and Sir Anthony make later that evening galls her a little bit. Surely, it should be Mary to be the first to be engaged?

She does not have enough time to dwell on this as Robert soon announces the dancing and Mary is kept busy dancing with the various young men. Evelyn has returned his attentions to her, and insists on the first two dances. Mary finds Charles Blake an excellent partner and feels it is rather a shame that he is almost a socialist underneath it all. Henry Talbot, however, is the most agreeable partner and Mary finds herself flirting and enjoying his company very much, they dance much of the evening together. That is, until she catches Evelyn Napier's eye and has a sudden memory of Pamuk. She asks for a little rest and finds a chair by her grandmother.

"If it were up to me, dear, I would pin my hopes on Tony Gillingham."

"Hope is for someone who has no cynicism Granny."

"Oh Mary dear.. do not let your experience stop you from living. Hmm, well I see hope coming towards you."

"Mary? Will you try the dull boy around the room?" It is Matthew, and the band strikes up a waltz. Matthew does not have the sophisticated styles of Blake or Talbot, but Mary feels secure in his arms.

"What a fine pair they are." says Robert to Isobel. Watching them from the sidelines, it is safe to say that Robert and Isobel are the main cheerleaders for successful conclusion of this love affair.

Edith and Sir Anthony dance the night away, in the manner of the newly engaged. Truly Sir Anthony has felt his years falling away tonight and he can hardly believe that this delightful, intelligent young woman has agreed to be his wife. He is full of goodwill to all the world and wishes that all the young people in the house find love tonight.

Matthew twirls Mary around and brings her back gently into his arms. " Will you join me on Monday to go to the outer farms? Blake has given me a few things to take note of."

Mary almost laughs at his prosaic request. "Very well. If only to ensure that you do not scare the poor tenants."

Cora and Violet sit together and consider the evening a success. After all, with so many young men around, Mary has still ended the evening in Matthew's arms. Not only that, whenever Mary was not at his side, Matthew's eyes kept searching the room for her. The addition of other suitors is always a good way to get a little fire started.

That night, Violet sleeps soundly, conscious of a match well made.


	9. Chapter 9

"Golly, said Sybil, "this corset's quite tight. Couldn't we loosen it just a little bit?"

She looked down at the dressmaker who was supervising the final fitting on her debutante gown.

"Start of the slippery slope," said Edith, examining a length of silk, " you want to look your best, Sybil darling. Besides this is only the beginning."

"Hmm. Larry Grey told me he is really looking forward to your season, " laughed Mary, enjoying teasing her little sister.

"Oh no, not Larry. He's just a friend."

" When he was at dinner the other day he certainly wasn't looking at you in a friendly way. _There's another, not a sister."_ The sisters' peals of laughter brought their mother in from an adjoining dressing room.

"How rare it is to see my girls getting along. Oh Sybil, you look beautiful. Are you looking forward to your season?"

" _London is the capital of shops and of speculation, the government is made there. The aristocracy inscribes itself there only during sixty days, it there takes its orders, it inspects the government kitchen, it passes in review its daughters to marry, and equipages to sell, it says good-day and goes away promptly - it is so little amusing that it supports itself only for the few days called the season"_ quoted Sybil smiling at her mother.

"Goodness who is that?"

"Sybil is reading…Balzac?" said a surprised Mary. Let us not forget that Mary is very well read. More out of a need to maintain her own superiority, perhaps, but she is well read regardless.

"What made you pick up Balzac?" asks Edith.

"Oh he was referenced in…by another author."

"Which other author?"

"You know… I can't remember."

"How interesting," said Mary, " you can quote Balzac from memory, but you cannot remember who recommended him?"

Sybil is an equal match for her smirking elder sister. "You never told us how your tour of the cottages with Cousin Matthew went."

"Well, " said Cora, "peace reigned for five minutes. Come on girls, we must get back before the gong. Thank you Mrs Norridge, I think a last fitting next week and then we should have everything packed? If you speak to Mrs Hughes she can arrange to have everything sent on to London directly."

As they leave the store Mary whispers to Sybil "You will tell me, darling. You know you can't hide from me for long."

"As you cannot hide the smile that is on your face, _darling._ "

Xxx

"Hello!"

Smiling, Mary walked across the grounds of Yew Tree Farm towards Matthew. It is towards evening and the farm is closing down for the day. Mary has replaced Robert as Matthew's partner in touring the estates. The past few weeks have passed in relative harmony. I say relative because, they are both strong minded people, and every conversation contains little frissons, a few disagreements and enough sparring to upstage Violet and Isobel. They have argued over books and Boers, dinners and Dowagers and any other thing you could list.

"I thought we were meeting at Berryhill."

"I know, but I finished a little early with Mama and thought I'd catch you up. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I have been talking to old Mr Drewe about how he introduced diversity to his stock. I have so very much to learn about farming. Do you know how much it costs to feed a pig?"

"I know that pigs can eat many things. I do know that the Drewes have farmed here since the Napoleonic Wars."

"Mary, sometimes I feel that it should be you giving me the tour, not the other way around."

"Well, that's not to be. You are the Destined Heir."

"Ah, I sense some implied capitalization. The thing is, you do know so much, at least you've been around the estate enough to have a broad idea. Have you ever cared to educate yourself a little more about tenancy and the kinds of farming that are done here? Perhaps the best methods and the needs for food production?"

"Why would I have? Patrick was to take over, and now you."

"Don't be that way, Mary, I know it's not how you think."

"I'm serious. I learned to run an establishment. But yes, there are some things that I know, or have guessed at. I'd need more study and time to really understand. Besides, Jarvis will always be there."

"I don't know. The more I learn, the more I cannot shake the feeling that we may need to … have a little more control, a few tweaks in how the estate is managed. Is the estate making the money it could?"

" Jarvis will not thank you for that question. Neither will Papa. Papa would find profit mindedness to be rather crass."

"It doesn't mean it isn't a good question."

"Did I say that? I'm just advising you, Cousin."

"Thank you. When I am Earl, I'd like to be a little more than a benign dictator – not that I'm saying that Robert is- I just think we could reap a little more benefit from the land. Be of more value to the country and to the house. "

Mary smiles at him and his plans. She strokes his arm in a friendly way, and Matthew has to take a few deep breaths.

"You've certainly made a success of the cottage scheme. Papa is very pleased."

"I hope to be a success as an Earl. When I marry, I hope to have a wife who works with me on the estate as an equal partner, who shares in my ambitions."

Mary looks at him for a long time, and motions that they should continue walking.

"why are you quiet Mary?"

"I was reflecting that you are sometimes so young."

"I'm older than you."

"I mean you hold no pessimism…realism,… for the future."

"And you hold this realism?" She is a little ahead of him now, and he has to put his hand out to stop her. "Have you no high plans for this estate?"

She feels a little cross. He knows that her future may not be at Downton.

"Downton is not my future."

"It could be… and even if it isn't don't you want your home to be a success?"

"I can't afford to care about Downton. I have to be open about my future. I don't know where I stand with regards to Downton, do I?" the statement is meant as both petulance and challenge.

His hand is still on her elbow, and as she turns to him crossly, she moves just a little closer into his arms. Matthew Crawley finds himself to be a little overwhelmed. She is so close to him. Sensing an atmosphere, Mary releases herself from his grasp and walks a little forward towards the pig pens. Matthew walks quickly after her, and reaches for her hand.

She looks up at him, her gaze steady .

"Oh Mary."

It happens so quickly. It happens without plan. (All the best kisses do). He claims her mouth with his and pulls her into a commanding embrace. Lips meet lips and Mary and Matthew surrender to the kind of kiss that causes the Earth to shake. Matthew can hardly believe it. Her lips are so soft, so searching, her body so pliant against his, her tongue so perfect in his mouth.

Mary sighs against his mouth. _Gracious, who thought the dull boy could kiss like this?_ There is all of the thrill of Pamuk's kiss and none of the fear, the revulsion. She feels almost heavy with emotion and desire. She also enjoys the effect that she is having on Matthew. It is wonderful to be able to disassemble someone like this.

A pig snorts. Well, if you choose to have a passionate kiss by a pig pen, at some point one of those esteemed animals will snort and bring you out of your clinch.

Giggling – Lady Mary giggling!- Mary breaks free from Matthew and looks at him with an expression of lust and amusement. (You think the two wouldn't mix, but there is enough hilarity in lovemaking, thank the gods.)

"Mary- I've been wanting to say- for so long now-"

She raises perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Goodness Matthew not here! Among the pigs! If you're going to ask me, you have to ask me properly."

"I'm willing to kneel by the pig pen."

" I am not willing to answer by the pig pen! Ask me properly, tonight. Come to dinner."

"And when I ask you, what will you say?" He has her hands in his.

"You have to ask me first, Matthew Crawley." But she is smiling, and so is he. Even the pigs sense a certain something in the air.

But here is a good lesson to learn. When someone asks you to marry them, let it be done and asked and answered, because leaving things for a bit will cause you to think. For all Mary's poise and archness, she still feels plagued by this : am I good enough for him?


	10. Chapter 10

_Just a couple of notes.  I’ve moved things up about a year (1913) because I want some of the relationships to be more established prior to the start of the First World War, and for the time before the war to be . It gives the relationships and arc this way I think.  So obviously Sybil is a year older than canon. By this time, though, Mary and Matthew have known each other for at least a year, so their time as close friends allows for a more natural progression ( I hope).  WW1 began on July 28 1914, so from now ( late  April 1913),  it is a relatively short time in the fictionverse. On with it, then._

Edith sat in the library surrounded by papers and magazines.  You may think that her engagement to Sir Anthony happened in a bit of a rush, but consider who Edith is. As the middle sister, who lacks some of the fire and verve of Sybil and Mary, she is very aware that the way for her to build her own identity and truly be free is through marriage. It does not mean that she does not love Sir Anthony. Indeed, Edith, who never quite had her full share of parental love and affection, receives a certain fondness from her fiancé that has been lacking in her life.  Sir Anthony, being a man of maturity and reflection, is also able to draw her out and solicit her opinion without feeling overly threatened by the fact that his wife has a brain.  Edith finally feels valued, and the confidence that her future husband has in her will allow her  to be a force for good in the county.

For now, though, Edith is a bride to be, and not a little overjoyed to have crossed the finish line before Mary.  With her Mama quite focussed on Sybil’s debut and Mary’s lack of a fiancé, Edith is quite at her leisure to plan around her wedding. They have decided on a September date so that the family has had time to recover from their time in London, and so that enough focus can be had on the wedding preparations. Edith is also having to think quite differently of her social season. As the future Lady Strallan, there will be people to meet and a few parties to oversee with Sir Anthony. She wished she could have a little time with her Mama for advice on hosting, but is resolved to muddle through somehow.  Edith feels herself teetering on adulthood, and truly cannot wait.

As she puts down an article discussing the merits of a full lace trim on a bridal gown – _really who writes this?-_ Edith notes her elder sister rushing in from the garden. She notes with satisfaction that Mary’s boots are simply covered in mud. She also notes that Mary seems very happy. _Cousin Matthew has proposed, hasn’t he? Nothing else would make her smile like that. So Mary is to have her Countess’ coronet after all._

Edith feels a wave of bitterness. Mary’s engagement will upstage her completely, and now they will both be ladies of the same county. Edith wonders if it is for the best, she is not sure what will drive her if she is not to be in competition with Mary. And yet, she cannot stop herself from resenting the fact that her parents will want to ensure that Mary is married soon, and that Mary is married with all pomp and circumstance. As Mary has also noticed, Edith also knows that in this past year, Matthew has become the son that Robert always wished for. The rejoicing over this marriage will be almost too much to bear.

Willing herself to accept it with good grace, Edith rings for a bracing cup of tea.  Truly, tea is not to be taken lightly in an English household. It is the elixir that allows us to keep calm and carry on.

xx

“Mama, are you free?” Mary walks into her mother’s bedroom.

“Well I daresay Carson is about to ring the gong, but I have a few minutes before O’Brien comes up. What is it?”

“I’ve asked Matthew and Cousin Isobel to dinner.”

“Have you? Better tell Carson. It’s not like you to make a last minute addition.”

“I’ve told him. I need to speak to you Mama.”

“Yes?”, Cora, sensing what is coming, does her best to keep her face from bursting into smiles.

“Matthew is coming tonight to speak to Papa. And to me.”

“Oh my dear, has he proposed?”

“No, but he is going to.”

“Oh my darling, I will not pretend that this isn’t the answer to all our prayers! Granny will be so relieved, she thought she’d have to do it for him! Oh, it’s all going to work out. Will you say yes? I think you love him.”

Mary allows herself a little slip in her mask. She feels close to tears. “I do. I think I’ve loved him for longer than I knew. I am so happy. So grateful. He is so good to overlook my silly behaviour with Pamuk.”

“You’ve told him, then?”

“What do you mean, have I told him?”

Cora stops and considers. You will remember that they had conspired to keep Matthew from any of the rumour and difficult questions arising from The Incident, just so that the journey to the proposal would be less one pothole.

“Mama, how is it that Matthew does not know that Pamuk came to my room uninvited? I thought he didn’t mention it because he was too well mannered to do so. Mama, what have you done?”

“ We just thought- Granny thought-  Granny, Isobel and I wanted you to come together without too many obstacles.”

Mary’s eyebrows rise so high they are in danger of disappearing into her hairline.

“The answer to all your prayers? Or all your manipulations? Oh well done, Mama. What was that house party, then? Another little part of your game?”

“Oh Mary don’t be ridiculous. We were quite happy for things to run their course, but you would be silly and flirt so outrageously. We had to move things along, if we could.”

“This is your prejudice Mama. You think it is my fault that Pamuk came to my room that night.”

“I have not said that Mary. I want you to be conscious of your behaviour. Already the rumour in London is that you are not virtuous. “

“The world is changing.”

“Not fast enough, and not fast enough for you.”

Mary knows that this is truth.   She is quiet for some time.

“I resent that you have manipulated Matthew in this way.”

“Will you tell him?”

“Musn’t I? He needs to know the truth. About me, about the machinations of his female relatives. I won’t catch him with a lie, it’s not how we are together.”

Any further conversation is stopped by O’ Brien’s entrance into the room. Not that it would have mattered. O’Brien has been listening outside the room for a few minutes, already, and only the consciousness of Her Ladyship being late to go down has pushed her to enter the room.

O’ Brien wishes the Lord would transform her into a footman, for the evening promises to be a year’s worth of entertainment.


	11. chapter 11

_My apologies, this will be a longish chapter and I hope I did it right._ _People are asking how Matthew did not know about The Incident of the Turk in the Night. As I said before, a ring of steel had been drawn round it by the Elder Crawley ladies. In addition to this, Matthew has never struck me as someone who indulged in gossip. Rather, he got on with his work. Neither would the family have been willing to discuss it at dinner._

Sybil has had a terrific day. Not only was she able to help Gwen smuggle in a typewriter under the very nose of Carson, she also ran into Tom Branson. They spoke fleetingly- just for a few minutes- but it was enough time to confirm her enthusiasm for the reading material he had sent her, and to secure his promise that he would accompany her to a bookstore the next time he drove her in to Ripon. There is a boldness and brashness about their friendship, because they are both young and idealistic. Sybil sees the world outside of hierarchy  and just delights in the ways in which the world is opening up for her. She wonders in what other ways she could strike out and embrace the world.

xx

Violet Crawley turns up the driveway just as Sybil is going back into the house. She slightly disapproves of the happiness emanating from her grandchild. Not that Violet is against happiness per se, she just feels that exuberance is folly. This is the problem with Cora being American, she reflected. The sentimentalism was likely to rub off on one of the girls. _Dreadful thing. I should have Sybil spend more time with me in future._

As she descends from the car, she is helped out by Branson who has come out to speak with Pratt.

"Good evening milady." He smiles at the old lady, of whom he is rather fond.

"Ah Branson, good to see you. " The Dowager is really quite genuine in her greeting. She wasted no time in interrogating the man during his week with her and, while concluding that he did adhere to some dangerous ideas, was satisfied that his engagement was well-read and intellectual. At the very least, the Dowager was convinced that he would not set fire to her in her bed. The Dowager is a snob, and a feudal from top to toe, but she is, above all else, fair. With all his talk of change and profit, and his ability to _affect_ that change, she currently found Matthew Crawley to be of a greater danger than a chauffeur who read Marx.

Of course, she felt that what Matthew needed was a more temperate hand. _He would not be so zealous if he weren't encouraged by that mother of his. That woman simply runs on indignation and righteousness._

While she was pleased to draw Isobel in to the Great Matter, the latter's inability to understand the outreach to additional suitors had left Violet wondering if she had not made something of a mésalliance. She resolved that it was time that she- the Dowager- took a more active hand in Matthew's training.

Satisfied that she had a few new schemes lined up for the family, the Dowager went into the drawing room and informed Carson that she would be staying to dinner.

Xx

It is a truth universally acknowledged that nothing stirs action more than an understanding of how the system has formed you into their own creature. Mary felt a need to defy the Althusserian assumptions of the structure she was within. She did not see herself as an arbitrary piece within the totality, but a key driver. Something in the altercation with her mother has 'cleansed' Mary from the shame of The Incident. Anger is a good thing. Anger cleanses, and in the case of Lady Mary Crawley, it means that she is ready to take the proverbial bull by the horns. Rosamund Painswick may have all of the Dowager's snobbishness, but the true heir to Violet Crawley is Mary.

Dressed in the impeccable red that has all heads turn to her when she enters a room, Mary slips down to the library, hoping to catch Matthew as soon as he arrives. In the library, she finds an unpleasant surprise. Anthony Strallan, who now comes to dinner almost every night, is ensconced on a couch with Edith. _Goodness, look at her simpering face,_ thinks Mary, _I wouldn' t be so happy if I knew I was to be tied to that old booby for the rest of my life._

Mary isn't meant to be the soul of charity, dear readers. We love her despite who she is. Or perhaps because of who she is.

"Ah Mary!", cries Sir Anthony, addressing her with the familiarity of soon to be family, " how wonderful. I took the liberty of coming early so I could present dear Edith with a little token of my affection."

Mary's eyes glance to the glittering jewel resting on dear Edith's hand, and, wanting not to be predictable, is all grace and smiles.

"How simply marvellous, Sir Anthony! You've brought such a smile to Edith' s face. I am so pleased to see how you cherish her."

"Why, Mary, what a gracious speech. Did someone put something in your tea?" Edith is nervous.

"What a strange thing to say, my dear. I'm sure Sister Mary ( Mary has to keep from rolling her eyes at this endearment) only wishes to partake in our joy."

"Of course. Thank you Mary, dear. Shouldn't we go to the drawing room? I think I heard Papa come down, and Carson warned me that Granny has been in there for some time."

"No doubt rearranging Mama's flowers. I'd make haste if I were you. I'll follow you soon."

As she leaves, Edith turns to glance at her sister at almost feels a kind of pity for the naked emotion that is on Mary's face. Of course, her pity is short-lived, but with these two sisters, we have to take what we can get.

Xx

As Matthew steps in to the entry way of Downton Abbey, he has a newfound appreciation of the house. He can see the future before him, he and Mary, and their children. His rosy thoughts are heightened when the subject of his dreams comes into view. Before he can speak, Isobel has crossed to Mary. I cannot say that Isobel considers Mary to be the ideal daughter in law. She often finds her to be too off hand. However, Isobel is quite sure that Mary is the right person to be his partner as the Earl of Grantham, and it is too clear to Isobel that Matthew loves Mary.

"My dear Mary, I am delighted to hear the happy news." With some exception, there are few secrets at Crawley House. If you wish for intrigue, look to the Abbey.

"Cousin Isobel, it is not happy news yet. There are still a few things to talk about." Something in Mary's tone puts Isobel on her guard.

"Of course. It's important to have everything discussed.", she says noncommittally.

"Matthew, I wonder if I may have a word before dinner?"

But it is too late, Carson has announced dinner and they are hustled into the dining room, lest the soufflés go flat.

As they sit down to dinner, Cora raises worried eyes to Mary. That young lady pretends not to notice her mother and casts a cool look around the table, finally resting on her grandmother who is regaling Sir Anthony with a story about her tour in Russia.

"What was the most important lesson you learned from the Russians, Granny?"

"Lessons? I wasn't on a study tour my dear. Who travels abroad to learn?"

"Travel fortifies the mind, they say. I only wondered if it was the Russians who taught you all about palace intrigue."

" I daresay they showed me that we English our correct in keeping away from high emotion."

"Ah. Then perhaps you made a study of the court of Versailles. Although, the high stakes and strategy of chess come from the Indian subcontinent, doesn't it? Did you ever travel the vast regions of the Empire, Granny?"

"Mary…" warns Cora.

Violet ignores Cora and turns expectant eyes to her granddaughter.

"There is nothing I dislike more than a game of cat and mouse, my dear. Either present to us your issue boldly, or restrict your comments to the weather and the excellence of the fish course."

Mary's smile is bright and takes in the whole room. "Doesn't Mrs Patmore make an excellent salmon soufflé? You really must congratulate her Carson."

The Dowager takes this on the chin, and remarks airily to Sir Anthony, " Mary was always the brightest of my grandchildren."

An almost imperceptible shift has occurred. Robert idly wonders if he ought to tell Carson to shelter the good crystal. Cora feels a need to act. She is seated next to Isobel, and, under cover of the clearing of the plates, she whispers,

"Mary is aware that we may have kept some things from Matthew. She feels it important that he not be deceived. I am afraid this is going to cause a rift between her and Mama."

Isobel smiles, and suddenly feels quite quite certain that Mary is the woman for Matthew. She is happy to note that Mary is not quite cut from the same cloth as the Dowager.

"I will not stop her if she chooses to tell him."

"Will he take it well?"

"Oh he may sulk for a while, but it may work out for the better." With this, Isobel smiles across at Mary.

Isobel's hopeful face calms Mary and she is silent through dinner. Oddly, Mary feels no rancour towards her probable mother – in – law, she is bristling against Violet and Cora and their handling of her. When the ladies rise at the end, she motions to Matthew to follow her.

They take themselves into the small library, but not before the Dowager has had a chance to clock where they are going.

In the drawing room, the Dowager turns on Cora immediately.

"Out with it Cora, and now."

Cora looks at Isobel pleadingly.

"All I can tell you is that Matthew is here tonight to propose. Mary found out that.. perhaps…we had tugged a little at the strings of this courtship… and she feels a need to clear the air. You know Mary, she doesn't want to be the pawn."

"Foolish girl. What is the matter if the end result is the same?"

" I think the problem is that she loves him." Isobel smiles at the Dowager.

"Love is always a double-edged sword isn't it? The practical option is always so much better, at least we all know where we stand. Mary, thankfully, has more sense than sentiment."

Isobel is flabbergasted.

Xx

In the small library, our would be lovers stand awkwardly, gazing into the fire.

"I know you wanted me to ask properly, darling, but shouldn't I see Robert first?"

"I'm not sure I want you to ask. I wonder if it would be the right thing."

"If I may remind you, not quite four hours ago, we gave each other some very good proof as to the contrary." He draws her to him.

Mary wants nothing more than to just sink in, but she steels herself.

"Have you ever indulged in such 'proof' with anyone else?"

"A few kisses behind the bushes, but they didn't mean anything. Is that what is troubling you?"

"No, no. I just…need to know that we aren't conforming to the fitness of things. We will be married to each other for 50 years – at least- and if it just dissolves into duty… Well I would have married Anthony Strallan if that's what I wanted. Tell me, when you flirt with me and pay court to me… are you doing it because it is the tidy option?"

"You sound like Cousin Violet. Yes, this is the tidy – as you say- way of things. But surely, we have spent enough time together – and enough time warring with each other to see that this is something more than that? Did you feel this way about Patrick?"

"Good God no."

"I don't understand what has happened since we saw each other last. To me it is very simple, do you love me enough to spend the rest of your life with me?"

"It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is that simple." Matthew grows a little angry. His hopeful dream of the evening is falling into ruins.

"Matthew, we fight quite often. We're almost fighting now."

"For no good reason, it seems to me."

She places a hand on his lips. "Darling ," he thrills to hear the word on her lips, " I don't want you to ever think that I don't love you. I'm just awfully practical."

He laughs. "I'll suffer through it. I promise."

"You shouldn't give me such leave to make you suffer." He laughs and kisses her softly.

"There is something else you need to know. I don't know if you recall a dinner where we hosted Evelyn Napier and a Turkish Diplomat."

"Very clearly. I think it was the night I knew you were in my heart."

"Don't be sentimental. I… that evening.. I was quite swept up by Mr Pamuk."

"I recall."

" After dinner, he followed me out to the hall and kissed me. He asked to come to me that night but I refused. Somehow, I don't know how, he found his way to my room that night. He came in, and he wanted… he wanted me. My fear overcame me and I screamed, so he left. Papa had him sent to the Grantham Arms. Since then he has spread a rumour in London that I am not virtuous. If you marry me, Matthew, you will marry someone who is a little tarnished."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, no. "

"How do I not know about this?"

"That's the thing. Mama and Granny found a way to keep it from you. They didn't want to keep you from proposing. They wanted everything to be tidy, and the rumours only hastened their need for me to be married off. I'm sorry Matthew, I only found this out today."

Matthew considers quietly for a while. "Why did you tell me?"

"I wanted there to be no secrets between us. And , Matthew, I almost let him into my bed that night. I did…desire him. "

This last is harder for Matthew to hear, for all the very simple and direct reasons.

"Why? Did you love him?"

"It was lust Matthew. Am I too fallen for you now? Am I Tess of D'Ubervilles to your Angel Clare?"

"Mary, you did nothing wrong. Pamuk should be hung in the town square for forcing himself on you. That is not what bothers me. It is the secrecy of it all that troubles me most."

"For the sake of full honesty, darling, I must tell you… I do love you, but I am aware that some of that love comes also from my love for Downton. I belong here."

"Then don't you think we are very lucky that we do have love between us? And a shared goal for the future? That is so much more satisfying that duty."

"I did behave shamefully."

"A gentleman would not have taken advantage of a lady's inclination. And that is an end to it. Besides, if it wasn't for my need to have some self-respect, I'd be behaving shamefully around you…"

Mary laughs a long and cleansing laugh.

"I don't deserve you."

"Can I have that in writing?"

He clasps her hand. "What shall we do about the conspirers?"

"Oh I shall have it out with Granny, make no mistake."

"No, I have an idea. I like what you are saying about honesty and knowing each other, about a little untidy-ness. What would you say to a long engagement? I feel we have been good friends for some time, but I never really courted you, did I Mary?"

"I can fault you on that score yes. I do feel devoid of sonnets and pretty flowers. Anthony Strallan has certainly surpassed you in terms of romance. But, how would the long engagement help us with Granny and Mama?"

"Let us say, it will be because we will walk down the aisle on our terms, after a romance that we have owned. We can get to know each other outside of an estate tour. And you forget my darling that you will be the wife of a country solicitor for a while before you are a Countess. It may be wise for you to get to know my kind of life a little. I dare say your practical nature will need that. Then we can be absolutely sure. Besides, it will be good to keep them waiting. What do you say?"

"Why is it that you can never ask me properly?"

He clasps her hand and goes down on one knee.

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honour of being my wife?"

"Yes,"

Xx

Robert gives his consent readily, and he and Isobel are besides themselves. The clause of the long engagement bothers Violet and Cora, but the former is quite sure that she can speed that timeline up a little. Mary is half-hoping that her Granny will try to meddle, because Mary, being Mary, is quite itching for a fight.

The long engagement is good news for Edith as well. It means that her wedding will not be overshadowed by Mary, and that she can settle into her life as Lady Strallan before Mary is crowned the aspirant Countess of Grantham.

And Matthew? He knows now that what he has is not just a lover, but a true partner. For him, the future rises again in rosy hues.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you for reviews and welcome to followers. Just a note that I essentially post up as I type, so I will be going back to edit/refine sentences and clarify a little bit here and there. Yes this will be a long story, but hopefully not too mawkish. I think my plan right now is to take them up to the brink of ww2 and then stop there. It’s been fantastic to just let my imagination go. Things also get a little more serious when we get towards the war and so on._

_Thanks for reading!! A quick note that there are some titles and so on included below. Obviously , they are all mostly made up or similar to real ones. For e.g, the Earldom of Oxford was made dormant in 1703, revived with the Earldom of Asquith in 1711 and then extinct from the late 1800s until revived under a different moniker in 1925. So I’ve begged and borrowed a little, but the point is it isn’t meant to reference real people._

With the pace of the script of the Other Storyteller, let us place our hand on the fast forward button and take ourselves to July, at the height of the London season. We enter into the ballroom of a large and fashionable London house, where the guests are arriving for a grand party.   See the young debutante,  newly minted and attending her first ball. She glances, wide eyed, at the gentlemen coming in. Which one, she wonders, will catch her eye? Is her future in this very room? See the young Lord lounging lazily by the fire, more interested in the fine cut of his suit that any available young lady. See the clutch of hassled Mamas, strategically eyeing the room, the young women now on their second or third season mostly hoping to get it all over with, and the Papas seeking the card room.

Mable De Vere, Countess of Oxford, took in the room calculatingly. With the great lady’s permission, let us enter a little into her thoughts.

_Elizabeth Mortimer is here, clasping her husband’s hands like a silly schoolgirl. I always thought she was rather too much of a flake to be a serious wife.  Goodness knows what he sees in her, such inappropriate behaviour. I wonder what the Duchess of Asquith looks so very pleased about. I wouldn’t be too happy if my husband kept the hall boy in his bed and never came into mine. I am glad to see the Harclays, Colin was so sure that all that estate trouble would keep them away. I must try my best to spend some time with Lady Ruth before I go home. She’s always well in the know about things. Gracious, Susan Flintshire is looking old. Well Susan Flintshire has always looked old. Quite a pruny baby, if I recall. Oh dear, why are there so many more Americans every year? Ghastly people. Although, I must tell Bertie FitzCharles. Some American doubloons may be just the thing to see them through the next few years, and that daughter of his is getting to a rather wilting age._

Delighting in her own wit, Her Ladyship waves across the room at her daughter -in – law, and goes to her. Susan MacClare, Marchioness of Flintshire walks past her with a polite smile and spots her Aunt Violet coming in.

“Ah Aunt Violet, I’ve been hoping to see you. We’re so sorry not to have come to the at-home at Grantham House last night. Shrimpie had to work quite late, as usual.”

“We managed quite well without you. Sybil did so well today. Oh she is such a dear girl. Shall we find somewhere to sit, away from the madding crowd?”

Violet and Susan steer themselves to a table in the inner room.

“Cora wrote to me about Edith’s engagement. Isn’t Anthony Strallan at least as old as me?”

“Yes, but Edith seems very keen. She may  not do very much better, and Locksley is a fine old house. Your Uncle Charles often enjoyed the hunting out there.”

“And Mary is to be settled as well…to the lawyer.”

“To the heir of the Earl of Grantham. Don’t be snide, my dear. Your mother could never carry it off and neither can you.”

Susan is not to be deterred so easily. It is the subject of Mary that has had her seeking out her aunt.

“Shrimpie and I were at a soiree at the Turkish Embassy in April.”

“Did you? That sounds dreadful.” Violet’s face is completely serene.

“It was quite interesting actually.  The cultural attaché told me the most amusing little story.”

“I’ve never enjoyed foreign tales. I always thought Ali Baba and his forty thieves ought to have done away with Aladdin in a more final manner.”

“The setting was a local one. Had he known my connection to the family, I don’t think he would have been so forthright, but it would appear that one of his countrymen had visited Downton.”

“Yes, a bit of a rogue I hear.  A rather unstable young man, at least Robert thought so. Told some rather tall tales at the dinner table.  But at least he made an amusing dinner guest! Robert said he could certainly sing for his supper!”

Susan looks directly at her aunt, who returns the stare with determination and authority.  Surrendering to the fact that her aunt is a formidable opponent, Susan decides that perhaps the better target is Cora.

“Well. I thought it might interest you, but as you say, you’ve never enjoyed foreign tales. If you’ll excuse me, I will need to see that Anabelle hasn’t overheated herself. She always does let herself getting carried away.”

The Dowager twitches her cane.  She rather wished she were a cobra so she could spread her hood and scare off her smirking niece. Susan had always been a bitter child, and now she was a sour adult. It would not do for a member of the family to spread the story around.  The Dowager squares her shoulders and raises a silent cry of vengeance against all Turks, past, present and future.

Xx

Mary and Matthew enter the room together, one of their first proper  society outings as a couple.  The girl inside Mary is deliriously happy. To be in London with a man she adores, sure of her position as Countess of Grantham. It is truly a dream come true. She does note the odd look or two given in her direction, a titter, a smirk. She clings to Matthew’s arm, knowing that her engagement to him may have helped dispel some of the issue. Matthew always makes her feel secure, but she feels annoyed that she is so reliant on that security. Mary’s problem is that she does care very deeply what other people think of her. Matthew is not oblivious to the titters and the snide smiles. It only makes him less endeared to the class that he now belongs.  He is tired of artifice but knows he must play his part. _What is it that Cousin Violet says? Life is a game in which the player must appear ridiculous. Very well, I shall be Pedrolino._

“I’m afraid we are in the eye of the storm, my darling.”, whispers Mary, bringing him out of his reverie.

“Well you are a storm braver, if ever I knew one.” He squeezes her hand  and smiles roguishly.

“Then let us seek shelter. I see Charles Blake coming toward you with determination. Perhaps he has finally managed to mobilise the revolution. Ought I to hide my jewels?”

“Don’t be flippant. I think Charles is the man to see estates like ours into the modern age. I’m thinking of asking Robert to take him on as a kind of consultant.”

“You never told me this… Oh hello Charles, how lovely to see you.”

“Hello Lady Mary, Matthew. I thought you might like some reinforcements. I’ve seen Lady Grantham,  but where is the rest of the family?” If truth be told, Mary has been keeping herself a little apart from her family since the spring,  hence her choice to arrive at the ball independently of the family.

“Edith and Anthony are at Hilton House tonight, dining with his relations. They may come later. Mama and Papa should be here soon. Sybil felt a need of a long rest after this morning’s exertions.”

“Well I hear she did fabulously. I am looking forward to her ball. And Matthew, is your mother not here?”

“I am afraid there are very few things that would induce Mother to attending the full season. She will  be here on the weekend for Sybil’s ball.”

“Lovely.  Before I forget, I hear you are both to be congratulated. I wonder why a more formal announcement has not been made?”

“Oh we didn’t want to steal Edith’s thunder.”

“Of course, come and join my table, won’t you? I’ve got Henry Talbot and Lord Asygarth, so we can be sure of a diverse conversation. I know you hate to be bored, Lady Mary.”

“Is Mr Talbot here? How lovely. I did promise him a dance while I was in London.”, and Mary smiles to think that her ardent pen pal will be another friendly face.

“So Talbot is to have the first dance is he, o betrothed?”

“Don’t fuss, darling. You won the prize.”  Mary smiles at her fiancé coquettishly, and proceeds towards the table.

Watching them, Charles Blake wonders at the difference a loving match can make. Perhaps, he too, ought to follow his heart.

Xx

It is a little later in the evening, and Cora is enduring a rather uncomfortable twenty minutes with Susan.  Spinning and spurring with an expertise that would have impressed Violet, Cora is slowly wearing down.

“Oh Susan! Enough. Don’t you know Mary well enough to know that the story can’t be true?”

“I do know Mary, my dear, and she has always been unpredictable.”

“The truth of it is is that he did go to her room that night. But nothing happened, she screamed and alerted Robert, who threw him out.”

“So he did go to her room? How did he know where her room was?”

Cora falters. “ I don’t know. But with a man like that, I am sure he has his ways. Oh Susan, we’re family, can’t I rely on you not to give this story any more credence?  Mary is so happy with Matthew, everything is tidy now.”

“Nothing is settled till the Vicar has pronounced them, my dear. You know as well as I.”

Xx

In the car ride home that evening, Cora is terribly silent. Robert, having spent the whole evening listening to Shrimpie’s account of the details of the _entente cordiale_ between England and France is feeling hopeful.  Perhaps the stories of rumblings of war are just rumours. He wonders if he and Cora should take a little trip to the Continent in the new year. It would cheer her up.

“At the risk of sounding like Mrs Bennet, I wanted to spend the evening crying ‘Two daughters engaged!’ “, he laughs and looks to his wife, who manages a weak smile.

Sybil is silent too. While she enjoyed some of the drama of the court and all of the dancing of the evening, she is coming to a slow realisation that she wants something of a different life. She feels all to aware of the waste and purposelessness of their way of doing things. Also, her corset is jolly tight.

She says goodnight to her parents and heads to the library.  The library at Grantham House is a little more up to date than the one at Downton and she means to seek out a book for Branson. It has become quite a little game between them, trying to surprise and delight each other with books and pamphlets.  How she wished she had more time to actually sit and discuss things with him.  Perhaps the time had come to organize a reading group in the servants hall. Giggling suddenly at the thought of how Carson’s eyebrows would quiver at the idea, Sybil collapses into an armchair and loses herself in some Thoreau.

Xx

“Cora, tell me, are you unwell?” Robert slips off his bedroom slippers and prepares to join his wife in bed.

“No, darling. I spent much of the evening with Susan. That is all.”

“Well that’ll do it. “

“Robert. You must speak to Mary and Matthew about making a formal announcement. She’s not even wearing a ring. I don’t like how in flux this all is.”

“Don’t be silly. They’re mad for each other. I like that they want to take their time.”

“Mama doesn’t like it. I don’t like it.  Things can change in a long engagement. Mama is hoping to..”

“Mama is hoping to what?  You know I don’t like too much meddling. I’d forbid it if I could but the last time either of you listened to me…”

“Oh don’t be self righteous Robert. Didn’t you see how people looked at Mary? She hasn’t had half the invites she received last year. Matthew is still middle class in everyone’s eyes, we must support them. We must support Mary.  Their status is tied to Downton’s future too. “

“Of course you’re right, “ Cora has played the right card, “ will no one rid us of this pestilent Turk?”

“Robert.”

“I’ll speak to Matthew in the morning.”

Xx

A half hour’s walk down the Mall, a handsome young gentleman checks into the Savoy.

“If you’d be so kind as to arrange for me a late dinner. And perhaps some quarters for my man? I am afraid he doesn’t speak any English.” He smiles winningly at the concierge.

“Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Perhaps some company, for after dinner? You can arrange?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Ding Dong. The Turk is back.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Sarah O'Brien is bored. When you are an A grade schemer, the lack of melodrama in one's life can leave you very bored. Thus far, Lady Mary has not been too affected by the story of Mr. Pamuk, and the engagement of the aforementioned young lady to that nobody from nowhere seems to have quieted the scandal. Even O' Brien's letters to certain ladies maids has not been too far reaching . Neither was there the face -off she was expecting between Dowager and Countess-to-be. It all felt rather anti-climatic. Even worse, her comrade in arms, Thomas, has quite gone off of the Mary story as he is so very preoccupied with the overthrow of the crippled valet. O' Brien feels entirely capable of handling multiple intrigues at a time and feels at a loss as to why Thomas can't divide his attentions. Oddly, Her Ladyship has not been forthcoming with information, either. Sitting in the servants hall at Grantham House, and sewing delicate lace cuffs onto one of the Countess' shirts, O' Brien plotted her next steps. Across the table from her, Mr. Bates is writing a letter. If she squints just so, O'Brien can just about make out the salutation and one or two lines. _Dear Anna. Dear Anna! Love's young dream, I don't think._ _What else does he say? His Lordship is worried about her Ladyship? I cannot see the rest. I shall have to get it out of her this evening._

"Mr. Bates, I wonder if I might prevail upon you to help us as a footman this evening? I know it might be a little difficult, but with Lady Sybil's ball, as well as Sir Anthony and his sister coming to tea, it's all hands to the pump." It is Mr Carson, quite in his element with the rush and bustle of a high society evening. The Duke and Duchess of Somerset are in attendance and the prospect of senior nobility has Carson as giddy as a schoolgirl at her first dance.

"Of course, Mr Carson. I may need to take a rest or two, but you can count on my assistance."

O'Brien snorts.

"Do you have a cold, Miss O'Brien?"

"My health is perfectly fine, Mr Carson."

"Thank the Lord, Miss O'Brien, Thank the Lord. "

 _Not any Lord of yours,_ thinks Miss O'Brien.

Xx

Tony Gillingham is also bored. I can't quite say that he is bored. More that the gentleman is feeling peevish. He had hoped to have made an impression on Mary Crawley, but shortly after his visit to Downton had come the news that she was engaged to Matthew Crawley, who, as far as Gillingham could tell, had spent the evening talking about production cycles with Blake. At the Camden's ball last weekend, she had seen how close she had become to Charles Blake and Henry Talbot, and wondered why he had not succeeded. He had felt too shy to go and join them at their table, even though Charles had beckoned to him several times. _Perhaps I presented myself too eagerly as a lover._ Either way, his mother was rather happy that nothing had come of it, for she had heard that Mary was not quite _virgo intacta._

"Buck up Gillingham, is this about Miss Fox or Lady Mary? You're as cheery as a dyspeptic poet.", his cousin, John Foyle, waves a hand at him.

"Neither I'll have you know. Do you have the list of the runners?"

"I do, and I met this Sampson chappie who rather thinks the bet should be on Secretariat, the Prince of Wales' horse."

"And so I did. My cousin is an aide-de-camp to the Prince and gave me a tip. How'd you do? I'm James Sampson." And here is Mr. Sampson, just beginning his career as a card shark and general man about town. With him, is a gentleman that we all know quite well. "May I present Kemal Pamuk? We met over breakfast at the Savoy."

"Good to meet you gentlemen."

"Pamuk? Haven't I heard your name before?", asks Gillingham

" I was here several months ago on diplomatic business. I was aided by a young gentleman called Evelyn Napier."

"Oh how excellent. I dare say I will meet Napier this evening, I'm off to Grantham House for the ball of Lady Sybil Crawley."

"The Earl of Grantham? Why they so kindly put me up during a hunt I attended in Yorkshire."

"Then you must come with me. It will be a jolly surprise."

We must excuse Tony Gillingham. For one, he never quite listens to his mother when she is regaling him with gossip, and for two, most of London only knows that it was some 'foreign chappie' who took the maiden's virtue. The English attitude towards foreigners can always be relied upon to lump all alterity into homogenous groups. Thusly, Gillingham is not to know that Pamuk is the Turk in Question. Kemal Pamuk shall go to the ball.

And besides, like I said, the Granthams were written for drama.

Xx

Lillian Chetwood is not bored. As she sits to tea with the Earl and Countess of Grantham , and her prospective sister -in-law, she is deeply impressed with her brother for his choice of an intelligent and engaging wife. She had had a few concerns because of the gap in their ages. Besides, Lillian Chetwood was a peer of Cora's and, to her, Edith was very much a child.

"Well Edith, have you thought about any plans for Locksley? The gardens are in need of a redesign, and there are a few rooms that have been shut up since my dear Mama died. I'm afraid Anthony and Frances travelled so often that they never quite made full use of the house."

"I have been thinking about the gardens, actually, but I really wouldn't want to step on Mr Howard's toes. He does exquisite things with perennials."

"Indeed Lillian, I mean to have Edith quite involved with some of the needs of the estate. She has an excellent knowledge of modern farming methods?"

"Does she?" Robert seems pleasantly surprised at this.

"We have so many ambitions between us, Anthony and I. Life seems very full." It must be said that Edith is now very very much in love with her husband. "In fact, I have been thinking of writing to the Times about the future of estates ahead. From the point of view of the aristocratic woman."

"Oh Edith darling, " exclaims her Mama, "that sounds like a wonderful idea. I'm sure I could think of a few things you could say."

"Is it a good idea? Strallan, I suppose Edith is in your jurisdiction now." Poor old Robert, he doesn't mean to be a stick-in-the-mud. In his defense, he has had a rather trying morning attempting to get Matthew to change his mind about the long engagement. He could not believe the obstinacy of his heir.

"I can't say I am against it, Robert. It is the first I am hearing of it, but I dare say Edith will do a capital job. I look forward to reading a first draft?" Sir Anthony, as I said, was Edith's champion.

"Of course. It is you who gave me the idea after all, when you mentioned that I was able to provide you with some insights you hadn't heard before." Edith smiles widely at her fiancé.

"My brother, a muse! "

And Lillian Chetwood drank her third cup of tea with great anticipation. The next Lady Strallan was clearly going to be drastically different than any who had come before her.

Xx

Sybil enters the large hall at Grantham House with a certain level of excitement. She adores dancing, and is assured of having many of her young friends in attendance tonight. Additionally, she managed to get her maid to draw her corset strings quite loosely. She claims a cup of punch from the tray in Thomas' hands and goes to greet her Grandmother.

"Hello dear. Carson, do you have extra candles on hand, in case the electricity goes out? Cora never thinks of these things, she always expects there to be endless fun!"

"Every eventuality has been accounted for, your Ladyship."

"Good, good. Now Sybil, dear, you have done well this week and this is the final hurdle. Do you have any names on your dance card as yet?"

"Granny, you make me feel like a prize cow. I'm opening the dancing with Papa, of course, and then I will dance with Matthew, and Anthony, and Uncle Dickie."

"You cannot dance with your sister's husbands and widowers all night. Who are the young men?"

" You're incorrigible Granny, don't look at me like that, yes you are. Oh, well Larry Grey insisted, and also Henry Nevill and James Montagu."

"Larry is as wicked as his mother, and Henry Nevill will mean Northamptonshire. I'd concentrate on the Montagu, Dorset has much to recommend it, and it's a longer standing title."

"Won't you stay by my side all night Granny, so I will know who to refuse? I wouldn't want to mistakenly dance with someone who's title only hails from 1800."

"Impertinence is not an attractive trait, young lady. Now there is your Mama, we ought to get ourselves ready to greet the horde."

Xx

The ball is well on its way, and Carson is pleased to note that the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, having only said they would stay an hour, have now stayed two. He almost feels an urge to pirouette. He notices Thomas eyeing the young Montagu with undisguised lust and the urge to twirl dissipates. Carson does not have any problem with Thomas' inclinations, so long as he doesn't act on them. He throws a heavy browed frown towards the footman, who quickly settles his features into an emotionless mask.

Cora is also pleased. Not only is Sybil soon to be a darling of the London set, but she feels generally buoyed by the good natured congratulations of her own friends. Like all Mamas everywhere, Cora feels the sense of accomplishment of having two daughters well on their way to being settled. Besides, Mary has been a model of good behaviour tonight, not dancing only with Matthew, but also with guests who need accompaniment and special hosting. She has also ensured that Matthew has danced with the wives of men who will be important to his future as Earl. She feels a sense of deep pride in her eldest.

"Good evening , Lady Grantham, I must apologize for being tardy, we were invited to Londonderry House to dinner. You remember my cousin John Foyle? And, I hope you don't mind, I have brought along a guest. Well, he is, known to you, I think."

Cora's face, while pale, forces itself into a smile.

"You're very welcome, Mr. Pamuk."

"What the de-" Robert has turned to greet the new arrivals and stops short staring at Pamuk.

"Robert, darling, I am sure you remember Mr. Pamuk. Won't you please go tell Mary that Tony Gillingham is here?"

"Certainly. Help yourselves to punch." Robert spits this out and goes searching for Matthew and Mary. And possibly a ring of steel and a machete.

Cora points the men towards refreshments and makes haste to her mother-in-law. "Mama, Pamuk is here. I am afraid Robert will do something stupid."

"He won't. You forget that he has impeccable training. We must all act as if nothing is amiss. He is just another guest."

"But Mary…."

"Mary will be fine."

Mary is not fine. Mary is angry. _The impertinence!_ _Oh and Tony Gillingham, so pretty, but so empty headed._ She looks for Matthew and sees him- as usual- in animated conversation with Charles Blake.

"Mary, dear. It is perhaps best not to make a scene. I will see if I can't get Gillingham to leave early, find someone for them to escort home. Why don't you and Matthew just keep to a quiet corner."

"I shan't make a scene Papa. He is in my home, I won't be made uncomfortable."

Robert leaves to consult with Cora and Violet. On the way, he also nods to Carson who has already seen the new arrival and is at full attention.

Mary draws herself to her full height, and in that moment she is truly magnificent. Moving towards the side of the room, she begins to make her way towards Matthew and Charles. As she passes by the door to the outer hallway, a hand slips round her waist and pulls her out to the partially secluded vestibule.

She shakes herself free and holds herself against the wall. "What do you want, Mr. Pamuk?"

"You tried to make a fool of me."

"And you indeed did make a fool of me."

"We could have had so much pleasure, Mary."

She holds his gaze with steely-eyed resolve.

"If there is no substance to this conversation, I ought to go back in."

"You dismiss me, don't you? You English snobs. How many of your fine ladies have I had simpering and writhing under me. What makes you different Mary Crawley? You did not desire me?"

I must say that Mr Pamuk is not wholly bad. No one really is. He is a seducer of the highest order. Mary Crawley's spurning of him is unusual, and makes him almost obsessed with the conquest.

"My desire, Mr. Pamuk, is for you to leave me alone. "

He has come quite close to her now and she can smell him, the musk of him, feel the heat pouring off his body, see the exquisite cut of his face. And the malevolence in his eyes.

"You bastard.", says a low voice.

Matthew's fist flies out with little technique, but meets its mark. As Pamuk bends with the blow, Matthew shoves him against the wall. Mary stares at her fiancé and feels a rather incongruous spike of arousal. She'd really rather have handled this herself but it is awfully attractive to see her dull boy roused like this.

But Pamuk is stronger that Matthew and, when he recovers, he soon has the heir pinned to the floor.

"Stop this, stop this at once." It is the Duke of Merton, first out the door of the hall.

A small crowd quickly begins to gather, and from it, Evelyn Napier and Charles Blake rush to keep the two combatants apart. Robert is shaking with rage.

"Pamuk, get out before I call the constabulary. Be assured that you are not welcome in any house of mine hereafter. Mary take Matthew upstairs and clean him up. Gillingham, I think you're a damn fool. Everyone else, get back to dancing."

And with this, Robert rushes to placate the Duke and Duchess of Somerset. There will be social embarrassment, of course, but at least it feels like the matter is settled.

Evelyn Napier and Tony Gillingham pick Pamuk off the floor and escort him out. Gillingham reflects that it is really not his fault, but he feels quite distressed to have caused Mary any harm. Evelyn Napier is just happy that he finally gets to redeem himself.

Charles Blake helps Matthew up. Mary, who thought she would be overcome with shocks, feels strangely calm. It has all concluded within the space of fifteen minutes.

"Charles, why don't you take Matthew up to the little sitting room? He knows where. I'll follow you with some brandy." She kisses her fiancé on the cheek. "Well done."

Thomas offers to fetch the brandy. Besides, Miss O'Brien must be told without delay.

"Well, " observed the Dowager Countess of Grantham to the present Countess of Grantham, "we wanted to change the story."

Humming delightedly, she allowed the Duke of Merton to lead her in a waltz.

Xx

As for Sarah O'Brien. Tonight, she is certainly not bored.

Xx

The next morning, the waiter bringing room service to Mr. Pamuk's room at the Savoy, finds the man stone cold dead. The doctor concludes that cause of death is a weak heart exposed to a high level of stress and anxiety. Perhaps, like Lady Mary, Mr. Pamuk, too, cared very much what people thought about him.

Mary reads of his death in the paper the next week and cries a little to herself. She cannot think of him without revulsion. Mostly because of his advances towards her, but also because, in the brief time before the incident, his glances and flirtations had also given her a kind of sexual awakening. He was the first man she had ever felt direct desire for. Somehow, the whole saga has left Mary with a much greater understanding of herself.

And so finally the chapter closes on The Incident of the Turk in the Night, and also the first part of our story.


	14. Chapter 14

_There is a lot of fluff in this episode. I can't help it, I've had a grapefruit and that always puts me in a rather good mood._

On an early September afternoon, in the charming village church at Downton, Lady Edith Crawley, second daughter of the Earl of Grantham, became Lady Anthony Strallan. The church was awash in sunlight, that mad, glorious light of early autumn, and the bride, soft and youthful, was graced with the beauty that only comes in moments of true happiness. The groom, still shocked beyond belief that she was willing to take him on, was beside himself. He had wavered when she came down the aisle. Something in the Dowager's eye caused him to wonder if he was truly doing the right thing. But then, when Edith reached him and raised a smile to him full of confidence and hope, he discarded his doubts and willed the vicar would speed through the process.

"Oh isn't she really lovely?", said Mrs Edwards the butcher's wife as the village gathered to watch the bride and groom process back to the Abbey.

"Not a touch on Lady Sybil, but I dare say expensive silks and feathers would make you look like a vogue model.", replied her friend the irrepressible Mrs. Wilson

"Oh be kind Margie, she's a sweet gel. She ain't uppity like the other one." And Mrs Edwards nodded towards Lady Mary, now taking her seat in the second car.

"Well, we all know that Lady Mary isn't as good as she ought to be. They may have shut up the story of that Turkish fella, but we know what she's like. Poor Mr. Crawley, expect they've saddled her to him without even a proper by-your-leave."

"I don't know about that. My Beth, who works at Crawley House, says he's quite moony over her. They're always sitting in the gardens locked together."

Bursting into giggles at the thought of the very serious Mr Crawley being 'moony', those two ladies hurried off to their kitchens. Gossip was gossip, but their husbands wouldn't thank them for not having tea ready and laid out.

Standing a few paces behind them, Mrs. Hughes frowned. She could do nothing about the two ladies, but Beth knew better than to gossip. She'd have to have a quiet word with Mr. Moseley after the wedding breakfast. At least before Mr. Carson got wind of her loose tongue. Poor Beth wouldn't survive a two hour lecture on the proper comportment of a servant in a great family.

Xx

Awash with the joy of dancing, fine food and congratulatory speeches, Robert saw his daughter off with happiness and a little sadness.

"Well my dear, who will look after us in our old age now that Edith is married?" he turned to his smiling wife.

"Goodness. I don't know. We shall have to care for each other."

Dropping his voice a little, the Earl whispered, "I must admit the thought gives me some pleasure."

Looking up at him, the Countess noted a spark that she hadn't seen in a while.

"Perhaps an early night tonight, darling?"

"Yes," he said, kissing her hand, " an early night."

Mr. Matthew isn't our only moony Crawley gentleman.

Xx

"Are you happy, my sweet one?" asked Anthony Strallan of Lady Strallan.

"Perfectly. Wasn't it funny that Sybil caught my bouquet? I rather thought that Mary would jump for it, but she stayed clear away."

"I dare say, with their long courtship she didn't want to chance her luck. Do you know why they are delaying?"

"Matthew says that it gives them time to know each other, but I think, for Mary, the real reason is that she is in a bit of a silent war with Mama and Granny."

"Heavens, such formidable foes. Do you think Mary has the strength for that?"

"She thinks she does. Let's not talk about Mary and Matthew. Are you looking forward to Venice?"

"How did you know I was taking us to Venice?"

"We both know I am much smarter than you, dearest. Actually, Lillian told Granny, and Granny has been some pithy remarks about water in the streets. She needed to have the last word, I suppose."

"Then let us bring her back some rubber boots."

Roaring with laughter, they sped off into the sunset.

Xx

Exhausted from a day of honouring Edith, Mary left the hall and made her way to the folly in the inner gardens. She slumped against a pillar and revelled in her solitude. She closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath, dismissing herself of the port and cake of the afternoon and taking in freshly cut grass, late blooming lavender, and.. soap? Soap.

She smiled. "Hello."

"Hello." He kissed the inside of her wrist.

"Careful, people might say we're in love."

"Well, wouldn't that be the most outrageous lie.", laughing and pulling his fiancée to him, Matthew Crawley kissed her with a passion that would have set Mrs Wilson all a-twitter.

Xx

Sybil Crawley was also feeling passionate, but also in a markedly different manner.

"Cousin Isobel, are you leaving? Might I walk down with you?"

"Branson's bringing the car round for me. You're welcome to come with me if you like. Matthew has to stay on to go over some things with Robert."

"Oh thank you. I just wanted to ask your advice. Oh, thank you Branson. Mr. Carson, would you tell Mama I will be back before dinner?"

"Certainly my lady. Could you please send Mr Branson back as soon as you reach Crawley House? We need to send some luggages over to Locksley."

"Of course." Sybil waited till they were a little way down the drive before turning to Isobel. She was not unaware of the glance from the chauffeur that she received through the rear-view mirror. It made her a little more confident in her request.

"Cousin Isobel, the whole time we were in London and preparing for Edith's wedding, I have been wondering about my life, and the direction it should take. I've been reading so many different books lately and I think what I really want is to expand my horizons a little."

"In what ways do you propose? There are lots of worthy charities in the Yorkshire area who need a patron."

"Yes, but I already patron quite a few charities. I want to be involved, to be a working part of it."

"I'm not sure you would be allowed to take up a profession."

"You did. Weren't you a nurse?"

"I was, but my circumstances are different. But I would like to encourage you in this effort. I think it is a wonderful urge. Do you have an idea of what you would like to do, or what particular work you'd like to know more of?"

"That is why I've come to you. I've been reading a lot about the conditions in which people are living and the kinds of diseases that are about. I know that this isn't popular information, but I have been told of the veracity of it from…a close friend ( Branson smiles widely to himself.) I rather thought I could learn how to minister to these issues from a health perspective. And conduct my own informal research if I were to train as a nurse."

"I commend this Sybil, but training as a nurse is taking on a kind of vocation. You would also need to speak to your parents about it, so you need to be quite quite sure. Why not come down to the hospital once or twice a week and give us your time as a volunteer? You can shadow the nurses and perhaps help me in my work as the almoner. Does that sound like a good start?"

"That would be wonderful, Cousin Isobel. I'm bursting! Do you suppose we could keep this a secret until I am sure? Mama won't ask any questions about me volunteering at the hospital, and Dr Clarkson won't betray us."

" Perhaps, for a short while. Until you are sure. Maybe, just to help you along, you could ask the household staff to give you a few pointers on basic living? Cooking, making tea, sewing on a button? I'm afraid you'd need to know how to make tea if you are staffing a ward."

"Oh, that would be delightful."

Mr. Branson suddenly feels very passionate too.


	15. Chapter 15

**Many thanks for reviews and followers! You make me wish I could send you all some delicious baking.** **On with the show.**

_Albergo Del Senato_

_Rome, September 25 1913_

_Dearest Mama,_

_Well here we are on the last leg of our ramble. I'm sorry to have been such a spotty correspondent, but we have been really enjoying ourselves out here._ _It was delightful of Anthony to suggest that we take on Rome and Florence as well, and I was so glad for the Baedeker you bought me! Florence really is a place to fall in love, and we have done that in spades. We have exhausted ourselves with opera and museums and art, I feel quite full._

_I had some time yesterday to pick up little gifts for you all. I miss Downton very much, even Mary. Won't you all come to dinner the Friday that we are back? I will write to Granny and Cousin Isobel so that we can be a cosy family party. Oh do say that you will, Anthony has a nephew coming to stay and I would like the reinforcements!_

_When we go back I will have my hands full with Locksley. I must start planning the gardens, and getting to know the staff. Anthony only ever used two or three rooms, so I shall I have to take a tour and see what needs to be cleaned and changed and spruced up! I shall miss you very much when I take this up, Mama. Do you suppose I could steal you for_ _a day?_

_Anthony_ _has been teaching me to drive, which I think will be jolly handy._ _I'm wondering if I should buy myself a little motor when I get back._ _Do you suppose Papa will howl at the moon if I do so?_

_I wish we could stay here for the general election. Italy is so awash with politics and passion. At dinner last night, we met a diplomat from Greece and had a rather fascinating conversation about the deep divides in the Continent._ _It's odd to think that, we, in our little corner of Yorkshire can be so removed from all of it. There's no escaping it here._

_With all my love,_

_Edith_

Xx

_October 15_ _th_ _, 1913_

_Downton Abbey_

_Well my dear DB,_

_The papers say that the weather in Manchester is most foul and I am glad. Since you think it all right to leave me here and seminar with lawyers and other legal men, I take some comfort in the fact that you do it whilst battling force gales. Although, I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed Granny's face when Isobel told her you were away at a conference on conveyancing. I rather think she has you down in her books as The Irrepressible Heir._ _Papa has been teasing her that when you become Earl, Downton will be turned into a conference center. Poor Granny. Grandmamma is still here, so she is fighting a war on all fronts._ _I think there is a war between Isobel and Mama looming as well, some palaver over the Church Bazaar proceeds. It's all quite vexing,_ _and not a little boring._

_Speaking of Grandmamma, she is threatening to stay for Christmas. I don't think Mama will survive it. I do love Grandmamma, but she can be quite critical of Mama. While the weather is good, I rather think I should suggest she go visit her sister's daughter in Exeter. It might give us some respite._ _Promise me, darling, that we will find a way to ensure that departure dates for visiting Mamas are always pre-negotiated._

_We were all at Locksley to dinner again last week._ _You see why I am glad you are battered with weather! Edith is so smug at the head of the table. I know you wish for me to be charitable, darling, but really._ _The Nephew is still there as well, and is quite sweet on Sybil. Poor chap, he has no chance at all. Sybil barely notices him, she's so very wrapped up in her books and schemes._ _Besides, he has neither money nor title, so he won't get much encouragement from Papa or Mama._

_I asked Aunt Rosamund if we can stay with her next week._ _She won't mind putting us both up, you're family, and will be head of the family soon. Papa wants me to tell you that you have every right to stay at Grantham House when you are in London. I agree, darling. You needn't stay in a hotel when this will all be yours -ours- some day. I think I will take the nine 'o' clock train, then I can be rested and ready to meet you when you arrive. Shall we take luncheon somewhere nice?_ _I'm rather looking forward to meeting all your lawyer friends at the dinner for Mr. Swire. I promise, I shall be on my best behaviour._

_Much love from your Mary, who misses you desperately._

_Xx_

_October 25_ _th_ _, 1913_

_Dear Henrietta,_

_Thank you so much for your letter. I'm sorry I've not written since we saw each other in London during the season. What a world ago that seems now!_ _I am pleased to hear about your Mother's recovery from influenza, that must have been harrowing._

_Things at Downton go by as usual. Edith is married and settled at Locksley, and seems very happy. Mary is waiting in the wings, I think, until she and Matthew decide that it is time to wed._ _It will be so strange to have neither of my sisters living here, and just me and Mama and Papa rattling around in this big old house. Don't you often feel that the lives we live are over the top?_ _Downton seems so cavernous to me sometimes._ _My American grandmother is here, and she says so many young folk like myself are choosing to live in apartments rather than big houses._

_I can't say it isn't trying to have Grandmamma here. Mary has convinced her to take a trip down to Exeter, and we rather need the break._

_So, Charlie Monckton is paying court to you is he? He is rather sweet, and I confess, there is something very charming about the Irish. Will you like a life up in Galway? Mama says it's very pretty in the summer._

_Oh, Henrietta, I must tell you, because I want to tell somebody. I have spent the last few weeks helping out at the local hospital. Really helping out, making beds and sorting bandages and things._ _Cousin Isobel – Matthew's mother- lets me shadow her in her duties, and I rather think I have a knack for it. What do you think, is the world modern enough for an Earl's third daughter to be a nurse?_

_I must close, I hear the gong._

_Your friend,_

_Sybil Crawley._

_Xx_

November can be a dull sort of month, weather -wise. When Mary and Sybil came down to breakfast early one Tuesday in early November, however, the sun shone so brightly, the sisters remarked that they felt transported to the South of France. Smiling and linking arms, they walked in to breakfast in high spirits. Mr. Carson reflected that oftentimes they seemed just like the little girls who had roamed the house not quite ten years ago.

"Good morning Papa."

"Good morning girls. Mary, some letters for you. Sybil, Carson says you requested the motor this morning."

"Yes please, Papa, I'm taking some things down to the hospital for Cousin Isobel. Just some old clothes that I'm donating, and the boxes are too heavy for me to carry."

"Do you need to go? You could just send it down with Branson."

"I promised I'd visit with some of the new patients, too. Just to cheer them up."

"All right, but send Branson back right away. Mama and I are going to Granny's for luncheon, and she won't thank us if we are late. What's in your letter, Mary? You look very absorbed."

"Nothing really. It's just a letter from Christine Elliott. "

"I didn't know you were friends with Christine, she doesn't seem your sort at all.", remarked Sybil with a trace of nervousness.

Mary gave her a pointed look. " I don't know what my sort is. I had asked her for some details of a dress she wore in London, and she has sent me a copy of the design. I must see if Madame Swann is up to the task. But Christine seems quite full of news, today."

"Oh? What could be so interesting up on the moors?"

"She writes that Henrietta has a friend, the daughter of a fine family, who is interested in a career in nursing."

"Does she say who that is?" asked Sybil trying to be as expressionless as possible.

"Why does the young lady in question want a career in the first place? I can't see her parents or her husband allowing it."

"Maybe if there was a good reason. There are women branching out in different ways now, Papa."

"I remain dubious. Well, I must go if I am to see Jarvis before eleven."

As their Papa left the room, Mary turned curious eyes towards her sister.

"Mary, don't start. You won't give me away will you? I haven't decided yet and I'm just helping at the hospital to see how I feel about it."

"I will be as silent as the grave. Which is more than I can say for Henrietta Elliott. You have an odd way of keeping something secret."

"Oh I wanted to share it with someone."

"You can always come to me, Sybil dear."

"I know, but I wasn't sure how you would respond."

"Promise me you will take your time to reflect. Papa won't take it well, and it will make you something of an oddity."

"I just want something else, Mary. I want purpose."

"You want something besides a life of marrying well, securing your family's influence, paying calls and planning gardens? I can agree with that. "

"Do you really?"

"Why do you ask?"

"In marrying Matthew, Papa's heir, isn't that the life you are choosing? You've said yourself you wouldn't marry down."

Mary is quiet for a while. Her sister has raised a rather good question, to which Mary, for a wonder, has no answer.

"I hope that Matthew and I will have a different marriage. We plan to work together to build and manage the estate. I don't think Mama does any of that. But I am afraid you are right, much of my life will conform to the same old pattern."

After her sister leaves, Mary sits for a while in deep reflection.

Xx

On her way out, Sybil is surprised to see Dr. Clarkson coming in.

"Dr Clarkson! I'm just on my way to the hospital. What brings you here?"

"Her Ladyship asked if I would look in first thing."

"I could wait and give you a ride. I hope Mama isn't ill, she seemed well at dinner. "

"That would be very kind. I shouldn't be long. Most likely Her Ladyship just needs some new prescriptions for her sleeping powders."

Well, we all know what happens in the Other Story. Her Ladyship has not summoned Dr Clarkson for her sleeping medicine. His Lordship is about to receive a most pleasant surprise.


	16. Chapter 16

**Much gratefulness for reviews and follows. You are stellar people. Lady Mary approves of you all. Just a quick note re Mary referring to Matthew as her dull boy. By now it’s more of an affectionate name as she has found that he is anything but.  In my head, the past few months have been for Mary and Matthew that rosy, can’t take my hands off you phase. I’ve always assumed ( from the way Dan and Michelle acted it, that M/M had powerful sexual chemistry) so being only able to kiss most of the time must have been brilliant and exquisite torture.**

**Righto, this chapter takes place about a week after the last one. Enjoy, review, remind me of stuff I’ve missed!**

Dr Clarkson put down his cup and saucer and smiled brightly at the young woman taking inventory of his office supplies.

“You make an excellent cup of tea, Lady Sybil. Is this Mrs. Patmore’s training?”

“No, it isn’t. I did want her to help me, but every time I went downstairs, I ran into Carson. I don’t think he would have approved. In the end, I spent many a tea time at Crawley House learning from Mrs. Bird. “

“I’m sure your extra skills will come in handy now.”

“If I am to be a nurse, you mean? Yes, and also in life, I suppose.”

Dr. Clarkson furrowed his brow. It had been a few days since he had told the Earl that the Countess  was due in the early summer, but it did not seem that Lady Sybil was privy to the information.

“Ah Sybil dear, there you are. When you are done, would you mind checking through my list to make sure they match?” Isobel Crawley marched into the doctor’s office as if she owned the place.

“Of course.  You look very buoyed up.”

“I had a letter from Matthew that he would be home tomorrow. He’s been travelling quite a bit lately, so he’s only been home for a day at a time. “

 _Ah ,_ thought Dr Clarkson, _that explains it. They can’t make any announcement as Mr. Crawley is the one who must hear it first._ Reflecting on the preposterous nature of a  social hierarchy that placed a distant cousin above one’s own children, Dr . Clarkson bid farewell to the ladies and made his way to his rounds.

Xx

Matthew Crawley, in the pink of health and the highest of spirits,  sat down to Saturday breakfast feeling at peace with all the world. He had been away for conferences, and a tour of government estates with Charles Blake, and was fizzing with ideas for Downton. He made a mental note to canvass Anthony Strallan on his thoughts about diverse crop plantation and began to open his letters.

Isobel looked over at her son, fondly, remarking as she often did, on how he had his father’s chin and eyes. She missed Reginald sorely. They were old fashioned lovers, and the loss of him had been devastating to her.  She sighed to think that, once Mary and Matthew were married, these breakfasts together would be far and few between.

“The letter you are holding is on very pretty paper. It doesn’t look like Mary’s style.”

“It’s a thank you note from Miss Lavinia Swire, Reggie Swire’s daughter, for our attendance at her father’s dinner last month. She had sent it a while ago, but I’m playing catch up with some of my letters.”

“You never told me how that dinner went. Did Mary manage?”

“She was on her best behaviour. I was rather proud, and amused. Especially when Charles McCormick kept addressing her as Miss Crawley. She looked quite like Cousin Violet at that moment.”

“How droll! Oh, poor Mary. I suppose, as you have learned to behave properly, so must she.”

“Lavinia Swire was very attentive to her, they seemed to get on. Miss Swire is a very sweet girl.”

“Does Mary have some competition?”

“Mary has no competition.”, said Mary’s fiancé moonily. If Mrs Hughes were there she would have been glad to know that Beth was not in the room.

“Come back to earth, my dear boy. Tell me, do you have plans for the day, or can I claim you to accompany me to luncheon with Cousin Violet? I am afraid I am in for a telling off about something or other, and I could use the moral support.”

“I had intended to spend  some part of the day going over some contracts. Robert and I have a meeting with Mr Murray on Monday afternoon, but I see that Robert has sent a note asking I come up to the Abbey as soon as I am free. I was thinking of going up to the Abbey, anyway. Can I tell you a little secret, Mother?”

“Of course you can, dear..”

“I’m going to ask Mary if we can set a date. I rather think we are ready. “

“Marvellous! I am getting older, and I can’t wait anymore for grandchildren. So , you have decided where you are going to live?”

“I have a few ideas I want to run past Mary first. I would have settled for a large cottage on the estate, but it isn’t her style. There are some good houses closer to Ripon that might do. The other option might be London.”

“London? You didn’t say.”

“it’s the option that I am unsure of, really. But only because it would mean we’d be away from Yorkshire. The more I think about it, the more it seems to have it’s advantages.  Charles Blake is hoping to recruit me for a position with the government. He’s just starting out and so am I, and I rather warm to the idea of the civil service. I did well enough at Oxford to be eligible.  It would give us a very comfortable life, and I think Mary would enjoy living in London. We can come up to Downton on the weekends.”

“It depends on Mary, then? I would miss you, but I can’t help but think of the good you can do in civil service. Well my dear, when you are ready to discuss the options in detail, you know I would be happy to help. Why don’t you write to Lord Flintshire? He’s a peer who works as a diplomat. I dare say he could give you some advice on how to handle it all.”

“That is excellent advice, Mother. Thank you. In return, why don’t I go up to the Abbey now, and then I can be free in time for luncheon? I shall be your liege man.”

“Excellent. I will send Moseley out to let the Dower House know to expect you.”

Xx

The Dowager is not pleased to get the message that Matthew will be joining them for luncheon.  She was hoping for a little strategic conference with Isobel over Cora’s latest news. Of course, the Dowager knew.  Robert, who is about as subtle as a thunderclap, had been fussing and attending to his wife in a way he had only done three times before. His exuberance had made the Dowager eye Cora very keenly over the past week.  Not to mention that Dr Clarkson kept refusing to look her in the eye. The Dowager, being an experienced and brilliant observer of human behaviour, knew that this would be a vastly difficult hurdle for Mary and Matthew. For all her machinations, she was glad her granddaughter was in love and did not want to see it too spoilt. The situation called for delicate, and incredibly subtle handling. The Dowager did not feel that Isobel was the most subtle ally she could call on, but she supposed that if Isobel were forewarned, she could counsel Matthew to the patience and reflection that he would need.

The Dowager is also hoping to elicit from Isobel the truth about Sybil’s hospital visits.  They are far too regular and too long to be charitable visits. All in all, the presence of Matthew Crawley would strike down the opportunities for such a tête- à -tête and the  Dowager felt keenly that she had still not schooled Isobel well enough in the way of matriarchy.

Xx

Mary was reading in the small library when she heard Matthew’s voice in the outer hall. Smiling, she went out to greet him.

“I thought you were coming later. Hello.”

“Hello, darling. You look marvellous.” He kissed her cheek and gave her a smile full of promise.

“Are you here to see Papa? He seemed quite anxious to see you at breakfast.”

“Yes, very quickly, and then I’m off to Cousin Violet’s for luncheon.”

“Curiouser and curiouser. Have you been summoned?”

“I’m playing defense for Mother.”

Mary laughed loudly.

“What is it?”

“When you are Earl, Isobel will be the mother of the Earl of Grantham.  I hope Granny stays alive to see it.”

“If she doesn’t, I fully expect her to haunt the dining room to ensure that we are all on our best behaviour.”

Their amusement is interrupted by Robert, who swiftly takes his heir into the library and dispatches Mary to her Mama. They had decided to tell the couple the news separately, but at the same time.  Robert, had, after all, learnt some strategems from _his_ Mama.

Xx

Matthew rubbed his chin slowly. The news provided him with mixed emotions. On the one hand, if the baby was a boy, then he would be free. He and Mary could live the simpler life that he quite ached for. On the other hand, having spent over a year studying and planning and working for the estate, he had grown quite fond of Downton, and did wish to be a leader in the county.  Matthew is an extremely intelligent and ambitious young man. In another universe, he may have become Prime Minister.  There is another worry tugging at him, but he refuses to let it overwhelm him. Somehow, he feels he cannot know how Mary will react.

“I mean to make provision for you if it is a boy. I will place Crawley House in your name, and it will be yours for life. And, another thing. I will likely die before the boy is old enough to assume his duties. That being the case, I would like to make you the trustee of the estate, as well as guardian over the boy. “

“Thank you, Robert. I would be glad of that. You must promise me that you will also make Mary a trustee if you do so. “

“Matthew.  I already think of you as my son. I am delighted that Cora is pregnant, of course, but I want you to know how highly I regard you. And it may be nothing at all, I’ve never been very good at making boys.”

They nod at each other solemnly. Robert stands to pour them both a good stiff drink. As he does, the library door opens and Mary enters.

“So Papa has told you then? Well Papa, I told you really sensible people sleep in separate rooms. How could you do this to Matthew?”

“Mary…”

“Robert, perhaps you could leave us? It might be good for Mary and I to talk through this together.”

Robert, glad to be out of the line of fire, leaves with expediency. His next stop will be the Dower House and he would need all his mental energy for that particular grilling.

Mary crosses to the sofa and gives her fiancé a glare. He goes to sit by her and holds her hand. Mary exhales slowly.

“Matthew, I don’t think we should talk now. I…. I’m afraid I’m feeling very…practical.”

“I thought you would.”

They sit in silence for a while. Mary not wishing to speak because she is afraid she will say something hurtful. Matthew, afraid of what she has to say, is thankful for the blessed silence. Ever the lawyer, however, he decided to make his case.

From his pocket he pulls out a small velvet bag. He places its contents in her hand. It is a gold band, crowned with a pearl and a circle of tiny diamonds.

“it’s beautiful, Matthew.”

“I was going to come and see you later today to ask you to set a date.”

“What happens if the child is a boy?”

“ I want to marry you, Mary, whatever happens.”

“ I want to marry you, too, Matthew, but what will our life be?”

“ That’s  actually something I was going to talk to you about today. Charles Blake is hoping to recruit me to the civil service. We would have a good life.  A smart set of rooms in London, Crawley House at the weekend.  It wouldn’t be too different. We won’t have all these servants, just a cook, a maid for you, and a butler who doubles as a valet.”

“You’ve thought it through. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, with you by my side. How does it sound to you? It would be the life we would have anyway while Robert is alive.”

“There is a beautiful simplicity in it. I was looking forward to our having a simple hiatus before we had to become the Earl and Countess of Grantham.”

“Then nothing has changed, has it? Besides, it could still be a girl.”

“Are we the sort of people to have that kind of luck, do you think?”

He smiled at her arch look.

“What do you think, darling? Let’s marry at Christmas and start our life in London in the New Year.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is to me. I’ve told you before that for me, it is all very simple.”

“Isn’t that because you see the world in black and white? For me, everything is grey. I was brought up to marry well, to be a force in the county. I don’t know how much I want the same pattern to my life as Mama, but I do want a position, I want to be a leader. I was quite reconciled to our simple hiatus, with the knowledge that Downton would be our eventual end.”

“You can still be those things. The wife of a civil servant can be powerful. You know that I am terribly ambitious. “ He teased her a little.

“And terribly clever.” She kissed his chin.

“Well, Lady Mary Crawley?”

“Matthew, I’ve always said that I won’t marry down. I mean, I always envisioned someone with money and a title. Someone who can give me a position in society. Somehow, when I think of you, all of that doesn’t really seem to matter.”

“I sense an oncoming preposition…”

“ I do feel that Downton is my birthright, that somehow it should be mine to steward. I got so used to being secure in that dream, and if the baby is a boy, I have to give up everything I dreamed of. A title, a position, Downton. It feels like too much. Already, I feel that same sense of bitterness  towards the baby as I did to you when you arrived a year ago. Won’t I resent you? Won’t we resent each other? I don’t know if I can be happy.”

“Mary, “ he said in a low and cold voice, “ this is very disappointing.”

“Matthew, you will have your career. I don’t know how to have purpose if I don’t have a defined position in society.”

“That is something to work at, to achieve. We all have to do that. It will be difficult, for both of us, but we will be together.”

“ Do we have the fortitude to survive that kind of thing? We are both equally stubborn.”

“It seems to me that you have all the arguments ready to suggest that we end our engagement.” He speaks with real anger.

“I have not said that,  I just think that I need a little time.” She returns, spikily.

He is terribly quiet. He turns his face from her and breathes deeply.

“Mary, I am disappointed. I am hurt. Nothing has changed for me. And you seem to act as if you are the only one to lose. I have grown fond of Downton, too. I had started to dream and plan here. But I think I can see a similarly bright future for us elsewhere.”

“I just don’t know if I can.”

“I love you. How long do you think you will need to know?”

“A week, two weeks? I don’t know.”

“I suppose I will wait for your note. I cannot say I will wait forever.”

She nodded. “I do love you, so terribly, terribly much.”

He smiled a little, kissed her and closed her hand around the pearl ring.

“Let us both take some time, then. Goodbye.”

As she watched him walk away, Lady Mary Crawley sank into the sofa and indulged in what  our modern generation refers to as an ugly cry.


	17. Chapter 17

**I promise you that M/M will end up together.  There may be twists and turns but have patience and they will be together. I realise we are a little M/M heavy in these past few chapters, but we will soon be spending quite a lot of time with Sybil.**

_Eaton Square_

_November 25, 1913_

_Dearest Mama,_

_Mary has written to me with Cora’s news. It seems a little preposterous that Cora should be pregnant at her age, but if the child is male then honour will have been satisfied. Not that I dislike Cousin Matthew, but we all agree that it would be better if the heir was Robert’s son._

_I have written to Mary to  advise  her to cast her net a little widely. Evelyn Napier is still rather keen, and so is Tony Gillingham.  I rather have an idea to host a little soiree for them sometime next month. It will not do for Mary to lose a proper position in society because of an attachment made before all the facts were clear._

_As for me, I am having a wretched time adjusting to my new  ladies maid. She’s quite harsh with hair, and I feel I shall have to let her go. Couldn’t you ask your maid for some advice on a good candidate? It’s quite dreadful to have a maid who cannot do hair._

_Tell Robert and Cora that I will try to come up next weekend to see them all. I haven’t seen dear Edith since her wedding._

_With affection,_

_Rosamund_

_Xx_

On a chilly late November morning, Sybil wrapped herself up well and struck out for a long walk.  There wasn’t much to do in the hospital, and she was vary of Granny, so she had kept herself to the house the past week. _Rather the wrong week for it, though,_ she reflected. The house had something of an atmosphere, what with Mary quite chilly to Mama and Papa, and her parents acting like newlyweds. _Poor Mary, I hope her situation is soon resolved._

As Sybil  rounded a clump of pine trees, still wet with morning dew, she found herself standing out the outside of the garages. Seated on his hind legs and polishing the front end of the car was her political pen pal.

“Mr. Branson, good morning.”

Tom turned and looked at her and he could swear he heard violins playing. Shaking his head a little, he stood up and despaired at the oil on his hands.

“Lady Sybil, do you need the car?”

“I was just out for a walk, and it brought me to you.” Then, blushing alarmingly at what that statement could mean, she quickly corrected herself, “ The path I was on led to the garages.”

“I’m glad to see you. I just finished _The Silent Places._ “

“Did you like it? I know I don’t often give you fiction, but I thought, why not?”

“I liked the unpredictability of the plot and the reflection on the outdoors. I read it sitting by the stream in the gardens.”

“What an excellent choice. You must have the soul of poet.” It is now his turn to blush.

“How is your work at the hospital?”, he asks.

“Oh, it’s just so marvellous to see a purpose shaping up for my life. It’s also quite wretched to see the difficulties for women when their husbands are laid up and unable to work. I want to talk to Papa about a scheme that would help.”

“There probably are informal things happening in the village. But they could always use support from His Lordship.”

“That’s perfectly right. I should find them out.”

“It’s really good to see the work you do.”

“Does it stop you from razing us to the ground? I’m sure Papa keeps expecting you to do so.”

“I do find your way of life to be morally incorrect,  but I see the revolution taking place differently. We have to educate ourselves, and our fellow men about social injustices and the oppressive regimes all around us. Education is the revolution. It is not enough simply to drive the rich out from their palaces, we must address injustices.”

“Well said. So how is being a chauffeur helping with that?”

“I have to earn my way in the world. My brother Kieran and I came over a few years ago. He’s working as a car mechanic in Leeds, and I found work as a chauffeur.”

“And what about Ireland? Some of the pamphlets you gave me suggest that you are for Home Rule. Why abandon the fight?”

“Who says I have? I write columns for political pamphlets, you know.”

She titled her head and smiled at him. “It’s good to know the work you do. Well, I must get back to the house. My aunt is arriving today, I expect you will have to go pick her up shortly.”

“Will you come back to talk again some time?” He asks the question with trepidation.

She smiled and nodded her assent, and walked back to the house thinking how different her life could be from Mary’s.

Xx

_Crawley House,_

_October 1, 1913_

_Dear Charles_

_,A short note to let you know that I have thought about your suggestion of some work with the home civil service. The more I think about it, the more I feel certain that I should take it up. I  am excited by the chance to research and form policies that would move the country forward. You see, I am as idealistic as you, my friend. Do let me know the particulars, and so on. I can be in London for  a meeting before Christmas._

_Yours Faithfully,_

_Matthew Crawley, esq._

_Crawley House_

_October 2, 1913_

_Dear Mary,_

_I have not heard from you since we last spoke, and I can only assume it is because you wish for silence while you make your decision.  In the same vein, I have been keeping myself from the Abbey. Perhaps it is good for a couple to have time apart to think. I only wanted to let you know that I have written to Blake to tell him that I would be open to taking up a position in the CS.  Whatever your decision, it is what I wish to pursue, and I feel that my training as a lawyer will serve me well in this._

_I hope to receive a reply to this letter._

_Yours,_

_Matthew_

_Xx_

“My dear,” said Sir Anthoyn Strallan to his wife, “ have you read The Times yet this morning?” He galumphed good naturedly into her room waving the paper about.

“Darling, you will put Baker’s eye out. Thank you, Baker, you may go. What has got you so worked up, Anthony?”

“But just look!”

And there on the inner second page was her article on the role of aristocratic women and the future of estates! Edith felt truly elated. She had spent a good month writing it out, even to the detriment of her wedding planning, and it was incredible to see the payoff.

“I feel quite accomplished.”

“And so you should. See the byline, Lady Edith Strallan. I must write to Lillian, I don’t think Chetwood has a subscription to The Times. He only reads about foxes and horses, you know.”

“The Times has a racing page.”

“Quite. What do you say to a morning’s drive? We can go to Downton and show off your prowess.”

Edith considered.  While she ached to go, mostly to flaunt her success in the face of Mary’s misery, she rather feared exposing Anthony to the snide part of herself.  To be truthful, also, Edith considered herself to be the new bride and hopefully soon the expectant mother. She wasn’t too sure how she felt about Cora stealing the spotlight.  Having won the marriage war with Mary, she didn’t really want to be in competition with her mother.

“A drive I think, but not to Downton.  Why don’t we go see Granny, instead? We haven’t called on her since we married and I’m sure we’re overdue.”

Xx

The Dowager is in a towering rage.  She is angry with Robert and Cora for not telling her about the pregnancy first, angry with Isobel who had climbed up the moral high ground and refused to come down it, and now, there was Rosamund.

Looking at her daughter across the table, the Dowager rather wished she could throw all societal and ethical norms out the window and just beat the woman with her stick.

“Why do you feel the need to interfere, Rosamund, is beyond me.”

“Mama, what have I said or done that you yourself would not do? Mary needs a position. Matthew may not give it to her. She must seek it somewhere else.”

“Rosamund, I will not have this drama unfolding when Cora’s mother returns from Exeter. Mary must take Matthew, he may not be the Earl of Grantham, but for her sake, we can find him something brilliant. “

“This is unlike you Mama, shouldn’t we push her towards the right sort of man?”

“I have  watched them together these several months.  I don’t think I could bear to ask Mary to tie herself to someone else. Besides, if she takes him now when everything is unsure, he will not want her if he does get the title.”

“ Your sentimentality is astounding. Anyway, I have already spent a half hour with her this morning, and I think she sees the sense in letting him go. Mary is a pragmatist at her core, thank heaven.”

“And if the baby is a girl? What sort of unknown will then be the Countess of Grantham?”

“Well Mama, now I see your real agenda.”

“Rosamund, I forbid you from getting involved. Yes, I forbid it!”

A subtle cough.

“Sir Anthony Strallan and Lady Edith Strallan, milady.” Spratt eased his way in and out of the room with a grace that would have made Mr Carson proud.

The Strallans came in, all smiles. Only Edith, knowing her aunt and grandmother as she did could tell that they had entered into the middle of a full scale battle.

“We didn’t mean to surprise you Lady Grantham, Lady Rosamund, we just had some news that we’re bursting to share.” Sir Anthony is such a dear man, he would never have suspected that he had walked in on a row.

Two sets of sharp blue eyes immediately turned to Edith’s mid-section.

“I suppose fecundity comes in waves, like the plague.”, murmured the Dowager.

“No, Granny, not that. Another kind of offspring. I have an article featured in The Times.”

“Oh? And when will you be performing at the gaiety?”

“I think it’s splendid, I am so proud of my dear little wife.” He smiled at her beningly, and Edith felt so incredibly lucky. Something about the way he looked at her made her resolve to speak to Mary.

Xx

_Dunnottar Castle,_

_October 8, 1913_

_Dear Lady Mary,_

_I hope that this letter finds you very well. I was  recently on my way from London to Aberdeenshire and met your aunt, Lady Rosamund, at Kings Cross. She mentioned how you were getting on and it cast me back to fond memories of my last visit  earlier this year. My purpose here is to drive a car back for my uncle, and I will be motoring down from Aberdeen on the 20 th.  If it is at all possible, I would like to break journey at Downton for a night, before continuing on to Oxford._

_Yours faithfully &c_

Xx

Isobel Crawley is also in a towering rage. She felt deep sadness for her son who had uprooted his life to start a new chapter at Downton, only now to be kicked to the curb with no money, no title and no love. She was angry with Mary for listening to people with shallow and greedy values, and moreover, she was angry with the source of those values.  While her son sulked and silently raged around the house, Isobel was making plans. She would not let her son lose everything. After deliberating for a while, she made a resolve to speak with Mary. After all, the girl was still young, and what she needed was someone to show her right from wrong. It was probably all too easy to have a skewed sense of the world when living in marble halls.

Now, tell me friends, what is that old adage about too many cooks?


	18. Chapter 18

As you can probably tell, I am mucking about a little bit with a few different kinds of writing devices; humour, letters, drama etc. mostly because I am using fanfiction as a way to develop my fiction writing skills. So the next three chapters are a little bit of an experiment, first person POVs with each of the three sisters. Hope you enjoy it. And if you don’t, well, I will send the Dowager round.   
Sybil  
I wonder if it will snow before Christmas. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Downton always looks so glorious covered in snow. I know people think that winter is such a time for death, but truly I see life everywhere. What is it that the poem says? Each branch, each twig, each blade of grass/Seems clad miraculously with glass. Mary would laugh and tease me for seeing the good in everything. Isn’t that what we are supposed to do, though? Find hope? When Mr. Branson talks about the revolution, I can’t but help seeing how much his politics is a politics of hope. That was rather deep, wasn’t it? I am becoming quite introspective. Mary is raising her eyebrows at me in a Granny-ish way. It’s good to see her do that, she has been quite cold and withdrawn since Mama and Papa told us their news. It is really horrid for Mary and Matthew, but I can’t help feeling excited. I must ask Dr. Clarkson if I can borrow some books on maternity and older mothers.   
“Sybil, darling,” says Mary to me as we leave the breakfast room, “ will you walk with me to the village? I need to send a letter, but I don’t wish to be alone.”  
“Of course.” I don’t think she wants to be on her own in case she meets Matthew. Poor Mary, she is so devastatingly in love with him. I do like Matthew, he is a gentleman, very kind and fair. I’m not sure how I feel about his focus on making profit on the estate. What does that mean for the tenant farmers and the workers? What about their wives? Although I can understand that he would want the estate to survive. Mama read that the Mallertons have had to sell some of their paintings just to keep the household staff paid for. Yet, it’s only a few estates that are facing financial trouble. I can’t imagine Downton going away. Papa wouldn’t survive it.  
“Your brow is rather furrowed. Is it your corset again?” asks Mary. She is already in her hat and coat.  
“Don’t be silly. Just thinking of everything I have to do today.”  
“Yes, I forgot. You are now part of the working masses.”  
“Not yet, but soon.” Mary gives me another one of her Granny-esque looks.  
“Try not to let Papa hear you say that.”  
As we walk down to the village in companiable silence, I can’t help but think how beautiful Mary is, with her dark hair contrasting with the snowy fields. I know most people think that Mary is cold and calculating, but she’s really quite kind and sensitive. Actually, Mary is a little over-sensitive. I should never say that out loud.  
“Who are you posting a letter to?”  
“Oh, Tony Gillingham, he’s motoring down on the 20th and wants to stay the night. Mama said she didn’t mind. I think she is rather hoping to make up for Papa yelling at Tony during your ball.”  
“Golly, that was a turn up for the books. I am so glad it is all over. If Tony comes on the 20th , he will be here for Mama’s birthday dinner. Aren’t Matthew and Cousin Isobel coming up for it?”  
“Yes. And Grandmamma and Lillian Chetwood. I daresay Mama is glad to up the male numbers for the dinner.”  
“So Tony Gillingham is just a prop, then?”  
Mary laughs for longer than is necessary. It is almost as if she needs it. She leaves me when we get to the village proper and I make my way to the hospital.  
I think I am becoming quite sure that I want to train as a nurse. I should ask Mr. Pattinson to compile a set of medical books for me. Dr . Clarkson is still not too happy about keeping my secret from Mama and Papa, I don’t want to shock him with the full knowledge of it. Oh, excellent, there’s Nurse Corden, she promised I could help her with dressing some wounds today.   
“Lady Sybil! Always on time, that’s what I like to see. Is Mrs. Crawley joining us today?”  
“I can’t say for sure. Do you mind me shadowing you on my own?”  
“Certainly not, milady. Let’s go see Mr. Robinson, that is the patient I spoke to you about before.”  
“Yes, deep bruising and a long gash from falling under a grain bin.”  
“Correct. You can watch me clean the wound, it’s not as gruesome as it was, so it won’t be too alarming for your sensibilities, milady.”  
“Oh please Nurse Corden, I want to know everything.”  
“With all respect, milady, Dr. Clarkson and Lord Grantham would not approve of that.”  
I bristled. How was I supposed to know this work if I was held back because of my ‘fine sensibilities’?  
“Oh Nurse Corden, I don’t care about all of that.”  
“Well, milady, I think that rules and social norms exist for a reason. It would make me uncomfortable to cross them.”  
As I follow her, I feel uncomfortable, too. I want so much to change and to have purpose, I never thought I was making someone else uneasy. Perhaps I should be more considerate about discommoding Dr. Clarkson. It’s almost as bad as Papa and Granny, driving something forward just because I think I have a right to. Although, I must say, Gwen and Mr. Branson don’t seem to mind at all. Mr. Branson always seems so eager to talk. He’s so intelligent and engaged, and very sweet.  
I really should stop thinking so much about Mr. Branson.   
Sister is beckoning towards me to wash my hands. Begone Mr. Branson, bring on gruesome gashes!


	19. Chapter 19

Edith

"Darling," says Anthony coming into my room while I eat breakfast, " I have a meeting with Yates this morning to discuss buying a new harvester. Would you like to sit in on it? I'm sorry I didn't mention it last night."

"I would like to, but I do need to sit down with Mrs. McGeorge to talk about a few of the Christmas details."

"Is there much to discuss, aren't we just at Downton?"

"There is the matter of the servant's gifts, and our own modest celebration together. Besides, I want to make best use of the season to look out some of the decorations and things that have been gathering dust in your attics."

"Never had use for much of it. Speaking of gathering dust, when does Lillian arrive?"

I wonder why it is that men never read letters through. I know Lillian had written to him with the date.

"She will be here on the 18th, and stay through till the 22nd, then she leaves to Phillip's to join the family for Christmas."

"Capital, capital. I'm jolly glad we have a good excuse not to go to Phillip's. Do you suppose we can make Christmas at Downton a standing invite?"

"I think it already is. Granny has been most insistent. I think she's worried that one day she'll find herself at a table with just herself and Papa and Mama."

"No chance of that. Shall I see you at luncheon, then?"

"Certainly, but I will be driving over to Downton, after. I need to speak to Mary, and pick up some seedlings from Mr Brocket for Mr Howard."

Anthony smiles and kisses my hand. As he does, it strikes me again how very handsome my husband is. I am rather glad that he is not in his full youth, for there is something quite resplendent about the lines on his face. Something refined and glorious, like the work of an Old Master. I wondered what it would be like to fling propriety to the winds and pull him down to the bed for an earnest bout of love making. But, alas, we have our work to do, and Baker is in the bathroom next door preparing for my morning ablutions. Lovemaking will have to wait for the evening.

Something I never realised was the kind of communication that can happen between the bodies of two people when they make love. A kind of non-verbal poetry and vow giving. It made me feel powerful and shy all at once. I am thankful my husband is mature and a considerate lover.

Goodness, I blush at myself! It is too early in the morning to be thusly préoccupé.

"Milady, will you be changing after luncheon?"

"I don't think so, Baker. I ought to wear a thick coat for my trip to Downton, I rather wish to take a walk with my sister."

"It is rather wet underfoot, milady, perhaps I ought to have a set of walking boots placed in the car for you?"

"You are a gem, Baker. Once I am dressed, will you ask Mrs. McGeorge to meet me in the morning room?"

She nods and motions that it is time for me to begin dressing. I look out the windows as I do so, enjoying the mild winter morning.

Locksley is a beautiful house. It is not as big as Downton, and I rather think Aunt Rosamund finds the size of the gardens wanting, but I like the quaintness. It suits us, and the little life we are making together. I cannot believe how happy my life is now.

Xx

Anthony decides to drive over to Downton with me. He has a book he wants to borrow from the library he says, but I suspect he wants to bend Mama's ear regarding a Christmas gift for me.

When we get to Downton, Mama comes out to greet us. She looks radiant, and a-glow with happiness. I hope I look that beautiful when I am with child.

"Hello my dears. Will you have tea? Papa would love to have you. We can talk about the plans for my birthday party."

"Is it going to be a large party?", asks Anthony.

"it seems to be expanding day by day. Tony Gillingham invited himself, much to Papa's chagrin, but I felt we couldn't put him off. Matthew asked if Charles Blake could join. Charles is coming up for a meeting, and Matthew wanted to host him properly. And Papa doesn't want to refuse Matthew anything. Then we have the family, Dickie Merton and Larry Grey, and of course Lillian."

"Why is Larry Grey coming? Uncle Dickie always comes, but I've rarely seen the boys attend your birthday. Shouldn't he be in London making merry?"

"I think Larry Grey is keen on Sybil."

"Are you keen on Larry Grey, Cora?" asks Anthony.

"Not really, but I suppose it's up to Sybil. If she loves him, we'll love him."

Granny would have winced at that speech, and called Mama a hapless American.

Papa is already in the library, and seems happy to see us. Soon, he and Anthony are knee deep in a discussion of the cricket line up for next summer. I dare say Papa is excited to have another man for the house team. It gives me a chance to try to slip away.

"Mama, I rather thought I would go have a word with Mary. Don't worry, it's not a confrontation. Do you know where she is ?"

"She and Sybil are upstairs sorting through some clothes for the poor box. They should be down for tea in a minute. Please be gentle with Mary, dear. She's had both Granny and Rosamund badgering her today. Thankfully Rosamund has gone to see the Skeltons and won't be back till tomorrow."

When Mama finishes speaking, Sybil and Mary come in to the room. I have always envied the easy camaraderie that they share, and it's evident that the bond has only grown deeper since my marriage.

"Hello Edith, how delightful to see you." Of course, that is Sybil. Mary wouldn't ever willingly admit delight at seeing me. She'd rather eat a bowl of spiders.

"Taking a break from the quaint little cottage, are we? How nice.", she murmurs, and walks away to the tea tray. I almost decide against speaking to her. Gathering my resolve, I follow her to the tray. Behind me, I can sense Mama's brow crease with worry. She expects a showdown.

"Mary, I wonder, would you mind if we took ourselves to the music room? I wanted to talk to you about something."

" Edith, you are about as subtle as a bucket. There is only one topic of conversation that anyone wants to engage me on."

"I only wanted to give you some advice."

" I don't need your help, thank you. I'm rather full to the eyebrows with advice. Besides, " and she has the grace to drop her voice, " I'd rather not take counsel from someone who clearly settled."

I am shaking with anger.

"It might interest you to know that I did not settle, that I am the happiest of women."

Mary sneers at me and makes to leave the room. She turns, suddenly, and announces to the whole room,

"I will make my own decision, and I will not be handled!" The words are extreme, but the tone is cold and low.

Anthony and I drive home in silence. I know that he does not like scenes. He's a straightforward sort of man and can't abide melodrama. I still shake with anger. I'm angry that Anthony had to witness that exchange of words. I am angry with Mary for her rudeness. And of course, I am angry with myself. Mary can always rip me to shreds, and I thought having my own life would inoculate me against her barbs.

Very well, if she wants to cut off her nose to spite her face, I shan't help her. May the Lord have mercy on her soul. I kiss Anthony on the cheek and whisper in his ear about my plans for the evening. We return to our paradise, leaving all thoughts of unpleasantness behind.


	20. Chapter 20

Mary

 What a strange and surprising day.

It began in a routine sort of way.  Anna brought me my morning tea and chirruped happily about the preparations for the party.  Anna is very chirpy these days, I think it has something to do with Papa’s valet.  Which is odd.  Bates seems about as interesting as Anthony Strallan.

 I dressed, and breakfasted in silence with Papa and Sybil.  I felt Papa’s eyes on me, but he held his tongue. I am grateful that Papa has had the sense to keep silent. If not for him and Sybil, I think I would have gone  quite mad. Mama  has spent the last few weeks looking at me with imploring cow’s eyes.  Granny has been quite vexatious, but no more than usual. Aunt Rosamund is unbearable. Isobel has been trying to corner me for several days.  And Edith, what did she think she was doing? To give _me_ , advice?

 I have felt rather envious of cats this week. At least they can hiss and claw out when they feel cornered. All I can do is leave the room, or go for long walks. All week I have felt in danger of becoming some dreadfully Bronte-ish heroine.

It was too cold for a walk this morning, so I made sure that Mama had no need of me, and took myself and my book to the Pink Room to pass the morning in solitude. The Pink Room was Granny’s favourite room when she lived here, so Mama rarely uses it. I opened my book and stared at the letter that I had tucked into the inside cover. A letter that I somehow cannot send.

_My darling, darling man,_

_I am so happy you have accepted Mr. Blake.  I love you, I love you._

_Come back to me,_

_Mary._

To send it, would have been to say that I am ready.  So much time spent asking myself this question, and I am still none the wiser. I looked out the window to distract myself, and saw  Sybil, muffled up to her eyes, walking in the direction of the garages.  She could have sent a footman to order the motor, surely. She probably thinks it’s unfair to make someone else go out in the snow.

I read until luncheon. Tony Gillingham had arrived by then, looking very red and cold. It seemed such an odd thing, to make a long drive in the middle of winter. Then again, as Granny would say, Tony doesn’t seem to have retained the sense he was born with.

The fire in the north library was blazing away, so after luncheon, Sybil and I took ourselves there to play Logomachy. It really was a dreary sort of day, and we did not feel up to being productive. Tony settled himself near us with the paper.  I asked Sybil where she had gone this morning. She seemed rather confused.

“I saw you go out to the garages. Weren’t you ordering the motor?”, I asked pointedly.

“No, there was just something I wanted to talk to Mr. Branson about. “

“What would you have to talk to the chauffeur about?”

“Nothing special. I was just talking to him. He’s a person.  Have you never spoken to him?”

“Yes, to order the motor. I know he’s a person, darling. He’s also a servant. “

Sybil retreated into the game.  I really think Sybil is going to do something alarming.  I shall have to do something to head her off at the pass. Golly, sometimes I do sound like Granny, don’t I?

Carson entered with a message for Sybil from Mama, and she excused herself from the room.

Tony seized on the opening.

He smiled at me winningly.  “What a pleasant afternoon this has been. I think I could spend all my afternoons like this.”

I’ll say this for Edith, she is at least more subtle than Tony Gillingham. It’s such a shame,  he’s so very well built.

“Quiet afternoons are wonderful.”, I replied noncommittally.

“I hope you don’t mind if I make use of our being alone in this manner.”

“What an alarming declaration! What do you have in mind?”. I felt unutterably bored, it all seemed so very predictable.

He took my hand in his. What an idiot.

“Mary, I have travelled a long way to ask a very short question. I cannot stop thinking about you. Will you marry me?

I considered it, I must admit, for something like a whole minute. Why not marry Anthony Gillingham? The estate is not as large as Downton, but it is a good family, a strong title. The old Lord Gillingham died only recently, so Tony would be mine for the moulding. He is a pleasant, if unexciting, companion, and if it really gets too dull, I could have a string of lovers. It’s acceptable if I’m married isn’t it? And then I thought of what Matthew would be like as a lover and my head filled with him.

“Tony, I must admit I am surprised. Surely you remember that I am promised to Matthew Crawley?”

“I have to confess something Mary. Your Aunt Rosamund told me that there was a chance that the match would not go through. She encouraged me to speak to you. I would not have come here otherwise.”

“Did she indeed? I’m sorry you have gone to so much trouble.  There has been no change in my circumstances.”

“Then it is for me to be sorry. What a ghastly mistake to make. It seems that that is all I do when it comes to the Crawleys.”

“It is not your fault, Tony. Believe me. If you’ll excuse me, I think  I will go and take some rest before the gong.”

Xx

Anna wakes me at the gong, and we begin the business of dressing for dinner.

“Mr. Carson said that you were talking to Lord Gillingham for a while today.”, said Anna. She has such a gentle way of asking me questions without quite asking them.

“ Lord Gillingham pressed his suit , but he was refused.”

“ I would not have expected anything else, milady. Mr. Crawley will be here tonight, won’t he?”

“Yes. Yes he will be.”

When I went down, almost everyone else was already in the drawing room. I could hear Edith chatting excitedly about an offer from the editor of The Sketch. I shall have to cancel my subscription.

I did not feel eager to enter the room, so I stood outside a while.

“Mary.” It is Isobel, who is inexplicably not in the drawing room. She had cornered me, at last. Isobel is irritating, but no more irritating than anyone else. I do admire her. She has gumption, and I can admire that.

“Isobel, I cannot hear any more advice.”

“I just want to say that you shouldn’t be scared of the unknown.  Your life may be very different, I don’t deny it, but I think it will be a happy one.  The world you live in really isn’t a normal one.”

“It is normal for me.”  

Isobel didn’t know how to respond. She patted my hand and went into the drawing room and I followed her.

The party  was in good spirits, the effect of a good fire and good drinks. I sat by Sybil and Lillian Chetwood and listened to their conversation. I could feel Matthew in the room. He was in the corner, talking cricket with Tony, Papa and Charles Blake. I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes. He was looking in my direction, so I turned my face to him completely and smiled.  He smiled, too, that enigmatic half-smile of his. Well, so far, so good, I thought.

As we went into dinner, Matthew offered me his arm – more out of habit than anything else, I think- and we walked in together.  It felt so very natural. Aunt Rosamund looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. Even Mama looked a little worried. They both kept looking at Tony crossly. This plot is very thick.

Granny and Isobel looked triumphant. Goodness, the players on this chessboard are very bizarrely scattered.

At dinner, I was seated between Charles Blake and Tony Gillingham.  Charles was as chirpy as Anna. Unlikely that it is Bates in his case.

“I expect Matthew has told you his news?”

“Yes, he did. He seems very happy. When is the off?”

“Sir John De Vere has only just confirmed the appointment.  Matthew will take up his post in February, so I suppose we can expect you both to be in London by then.”

Charles did not seem to know of our estrangement.

“That seems to be what the future holds.”

I looked at Matthew and mouthed “February?”. He nodded and, then, turned back to his conversation with Grandmamma.

Grandmamma noted the exchange. I am sure that everyone at the table did, but I did not have the energy to look around. I continued to make small talk with Charles until Mama allowed us to turn.  Tony and I talked about horses- thank goodness for horses and English staidness- and it carried us to the end of dinner. I decided that I could not bear to be in the drawing room with the other ladies, so I escaped to the Pink Room.

There was a knock on the door. Knocks on doors are always ominous.

It  was Matthew. Of course it was Matthew. He is the kind of man who needs to talk things out, more’s the pity. He is also the heir to his mother’s entrapment skills.

“This time, I am awaiting a reply to my letter. What has happened to your manners, Lady Mary?” He was half-teasing, half angry.  I could not sense his mood accurately.

We sat down on opposite chairs. It felt rather like a conference between states.

“I think I have written a few thousand replies.”

“So you still have no decision for me?” He sounded weary.

“Things remain unchanged, for you, then?”, I countered.

“I cannot say that exactly. I have decided to move some parts of my life along.  My preference is for us to be together in this life, but I think I can be resolved to other…choices… if that is what it is to be.” He spoke in a collected, business like way, as if we were discussing the purchase of a new horse.

“How wonderful for you. I am glad you are able to take a rational approach to things.”

He struck his hand on the arm of the chair.

“Why is it that you cannot take anything seriously? I am here because I want a resolution. I do not wish to keep waiting for you to make up your mind. What do you suppose, that I am at your beck and call?”

“I don’t see why I have to decide so quickly. Every where I turn, there it is, someone with an opinion on what I should do. I have half a mind to run away.”

“Don’t be puerile, Mary. You have had a month.”

“Don’t badger me, Matthew.”

“I am not the sort of man to give a woman an ultimatum. I have hung on this long because I am deeply in love with you, as you are with me. The question, again, is very simple. Is it enough for you to spend the rest of your life with me?”

“Granny said I should take you now and drop you if the baby is a boy. Aunt Rosamund is completely against the match. Grandmamma just thinks I should move with her to Newport.”

“What a council!  I think the problem is that you do not know your own mind. “

“This from the man who swears to be in love with me.”

“I may be in love, but it is easy to see that  ‘love’s best habit is in seeming trust.’ “

“You seem to have misunderstood what I meant by my request for a sonnet.”

We were both on our feet by then and it was a shouting match. Propriety be damned. Gosh, it was thrilling.

“For God’s sake, Mary, when will you stop playing games? Just make the decision. Take me, or cut me loose.”

“Can’t you understand what you are asking me to give up?”

“From my point of view, not very much. I am asking you to give up a life of artifice, false pride and unnatural wealth. _You_ just can’t bring yourself to be plain old Mrs. Crawley, can you?”

“Huh. Haven’t you learned anything? I will always be Lady Mary, whatever happens to you. You know you call me a snob, but you have a mis-placed righteousness. It’s still a kind of snobbery. You think that you hold higher morals just because you aren’t…”

“Aren’t what? You’re a coward, Mary.” That stung, and it was this statement that sealed my decision.   But first, I wanted to finish the fight.  

“Well, you’re pig- headed.”

Another knock on the door. This time it is Charles Blake. “ I am sent by your Papa to ask you to be calm.”

We both glared at him. “Oh  get out, Charles”, says Matthew uncharacteristically. Charles, surprised by Matthew’s anger, leaves immediately.

I am still not sure why but Charles’ actions broke the tension and Matthew and I fell into our chairs laughing hysterically.

I watched him laugh. I watched his beautiful face fill with light and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I stood up, went over to him and  kissed him full on the mouth. He pushed me away a little, but put his hand on my cheek. I was not to be denied, so I kissed him again. This time, he deepened the kiss and pulled me onto his lap. Matthew and I had kissed many times before this, and with passion, certainly. This kiss was completely different.  It was urgent, and so full of unadulterated desire. His mouth travelled from mine to my jawline and slowly down my neck. His hands slid up my bodice, to cup my breasts. I slid my hands down from his hair and inside his dinner jacket, biting his cheek softly as I did so. He groaned, and buried his head in my shoulder. His hands dropped to my waist.

“Oh Mary, “ he said softly, “this past month my heart has been breaking.”

I wrapped my arms around him; the mood shifted so quickly from desire to tenderness.

He looked up at directly at me.

“I have been in London quite often this month, and I saw a lot of Reggie and Lavinia Swire. You had not replied my letter. On one occasion, Miss Swire and I took a walk together, and I am afraid that I kissed her. I made no promises, but there was a significant attraction.” The words tumbled out of him.

“Tony Gillingham asked me to marry him today and I considered accepting him.” All’s fair in love and war.

“Why didn’t you accept, in the end? You would have the life you want.”

“Will you ask Lavinia Swire for her hand?”

“I won’t deny that I have thought about it. She is very sweet, very kind. Very uncomplicated. We would have an affectionate and happy marriage.”

“Tony Gillingham is also a straightforward option.”, I replied, with more venom than I intended.

I waited a beat and then said, “Matthew, perhaps it would be better for you to be uncomplicated with Lavinia Swire than fractious with me.

“Is that really your decision?”, he asks softly.

I stood up. “Oh Matthew, what is it that I am always telling you? You must never really pay any attention to the things I say. My dear, dull, darling, man, you have waged your war tonight and won it. Besides, the only other option seems to be Tony Gillingham. And Mama is right, I have to marry someone, and it might as well be you.”

He stared at me for several minutes, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. Then he laughed roguishly and pulled me back onto his lap.

 “Then kiss me, _Mrs._ Crawley.”

xx

**I was really torn between breaking them up or  getting them properly together. Sorry about all the angst, but I wanted Mary to struggle with her decision, because this new life is going to be pretty challenging for her. Obviously, at the point that he outright calls her a coward, she decides to marry him because she can’t back down from a challenge either. I didn’t break them up because I rather wanted to see if I was up to the challenge of Edith as Lady Strallan, Mary as an upper middle class wife, and Sybil as Mrs. Branson.**

**Happy Easter my friends, thanks so much for reading, reviewing and all your encouragement.**


	21. Chapter 21

1914 is a watershed moment for Europe, marking the end of a relatively stable continent, and a time of world wars, upheaval, dictatorships and revolution. Our books, our music, our civil rights , our academies will never be the same again. This is the beginning of the modern era, of the reverberations of Joyce, Lawrence, Gide, Picasso, Stravinsky, Diaghilev, Wyndham Lewis, Ezra Pound, of T.S. Eliot **.** A great levelling of society takes places in the years following the world wars, with many questions being asked of the stuffy rules and sexual repressions of the century before. Can you imagine being a woman when your society is re-awakening like this? There is disenchantment, and then there is this incomprehensible 'brave new world.' Our Crawley sisters are women of this world.

Of course, as we join them in the middle of January, they have no comprehension of the world that is to be. It is tea-time at Downton. If there are multiple universes ( as I very much suspect there are), in each an everyone one of them, then tea-time in the library is, for all Crawleys who are and ever will be, point 0,0,0,0.

Edith and Anthony have come over to take tea and to show Robert their new chocolate Labrador, Angus. Anthony does not feel bound by the family tradition of naming dogs after Egyptian pharaohs. While Isis and Angus confer by Robert's desk, the conversation turns to the rent strike in Leeds. In their predictable fashion, Robert and Anthony are quite worked over by the fact that the strikers have managed to hold the city in protest for almost a week, with no sign of an end.

"Why hasn't it been resolved as yet?," asks Cora.

"Oh the usual sort of thing. I heard that tenants are throwing landlords out of their homes and refusing to disclose their rent books. We need the courts to make a decisive ruling," answered Robert.

"And all over 6 d? it doesn't seem to be that much, surely.", observed Edith.

"Maybe not to you, but it is a lot if you earn only ninety-seven shillings a week, and that's the wage for a brick layer. Ordinary labourers barely make forty – five shillings a week. Besides, I hear that the conditions of some of the houses are deplorable. This strike isn't just about the housing, it's really about the need for decent housing. "said Sybil to her father with earnestness in her voice.

"You seem to be very well informed, Sybil dear, "remarked her Grandmother with a voice of intense curiosity, "How is it that you know so much?"

"I read. Can't a person read?"

"There is such a thing as a person reading too much."

"I don't know. A protest doesn't happen in a vaccum. Isn't that why Papa says that our value is to provide good employment? Some of what we do is to keep the peace.", said Mary.

"You are correct, Mary. As is Sybil. A friend of mine who provides legal advice to the Property Owners Association says that the health of some of the tenants is scandalous.", joined in her fiancé.

"Precisely. Surely we must support the strikers!" exclaimed Sybil

"I wouldn't go so far, Sybil, we must support the courts in finding a fair solution, and work on policies that fix the issues without overturning the institution. The landlords aren't increasing the price in a vacuum either.", replied Matthew.

"Oh, Matthew! You haven't started working for the government yet, you _can_ have an opinion.", said Sybil

"That _is_ my opinion, but I'd rather not enter a debate over it."

"Still,", said Anthony, " Leeds is too close for comfort as far as I am concerned."

"Why, are you mistreating your tenants, Anthony?" asked one of his sisters in law archly. I don't have to tell you which one of them that was.

Mary…", warned Matthew good-humouredly.

Mary only smiled and smirked in Edith's general direction. Edith ignored her and decided to change the conversation.

"I suppose Mary's wedding is costing the earth.", she said to no one in particular.

"Half the National Debt, I'm afraid.", joked Robert.

"I suppose we could always cut down the cost by dropping a couple of names off the guest list.", said Mary looking at her sister in a pointed manner.

Anthony and Matthew looked at each other quickly. While Matthew and Anthony are not destined to be the close friends that Matthew and Tom will be, they have a good understanding and know when an intervention is needed.

" Cora, I don't know if Edith has told you that Mr. Howard is retiring. We are thinking of promoting one of the under gardeners, but Mr. Howard doesn't think anyone of them is up to snuff."

Gardens, like horses, are always reliable topics for the English.

"Oh how disappointing. Would you like me to ask for any reccomendations?" replied Cora.

"Mama that would be very kind."

"Mr. Moseley's father is an excellent gardener. He has the most exquisite roses." That was Isobel.

"He isn't looking for work is he?"

"Mr. Molesley is past working age. I don't think he could take too many disruptions, now that Moseley junior is likely to move to London with Mary and Matthew.", said Cora

"Oh, but what about you Isobel?" asks Edith

"I don't really need a butler. I'm quite happy to manage with a maid and a cook."

The Dowager tittered.

"The problem, though, is that Moseley doesn't seem to be overjoyed at the prospect of London. But Matthew and I really want someone who we know and can trust for our small household."

"Who else is going with you to London?" asked the Dowager

"Anna will be my ladies maid, and we are still seeking a cook who will have some housekeeper duties. It isn't a pressing matter, really, we haven't even found a place to live yet."

"Robert very kindly offered Grantham House, but we rather want our own place. Especially if.."

"You are disinherited." Says Edith bluntly, more to Mary than Matthew.

"Our plan is to stay with Aunt Rosamund till we find something. She was so kind as to offer." Mary smiled, remembering the very uncomfortable half hour she had given her aunt.

"Staffing really is such a challenge. Carson tells me he thinks Thomas is getting quite restless. At least Moseley will go to London uncomplainingly because he has loyalty to you, Matthew.", sighed Robert

Anthony Strallan looked like an idea was forming in his mind. I shall spare you the details of what Mary thought his face looked like at that moment. For the sake of charity.

"Do you suppose Moseley the Younger is a capable gardener? We could offer them both a lovely cottage and Senior could advise and help Edith plan the gardens. You are quite right, Isobel, he has a rare hand with roses. Didn't he win the Grantham Cup this year?"

The Dowager emitted a sound that sounded like a snort.

"Darling what a wonderful idea, you are quite brilliant."

"Well, what about us?"

"Oh, of course. I am sure you could find someone. There must be excellent, trustworthy young men who would quite like a life in London. This way, Moseley is not disrupted."

"And Locksley profits."

"Don't start, Mary. I rather like the idea, if the Moseleys accept it. I'm sure we can rely on Carson to help us out."

Mr. Carson only quivers a brow in the background.

Xx

On her way out, the Dowager took her eldest granddaughter to a side and asked her airily if Sybil had any special friends.

"Oh you know Sybil, Granny, she has so many dreary causes. It's quite likely she met some down- and -out woman at one of her charities.

"Her knowledge seemed very specific. "

Mary only gave her Grandmother a rather bored look. The two ladies stared at each other a while, before the Dowager admitted defeat – for now- and went on her way.

Xx

As Mary was dressing for dinner, she appraised Anna of the conversation at tea- time, only to verbalize her indignation at the cheek of the Strallans. Anna was very reflective throughout the conversation.

"I have to tell you milday that Mr Moseley wasn't very happy about the move to London. If you were moving to the Abbey, I don't think he would have minded."

"So you think it's a good thing? My real worry is that our butler in London would need to be someone who can be intensely loyal to Mr Crawley and myself. There is much work ahead of us."

Anna deliberated.

"Milady, have you ever wondered how Mr. Pamuk came to your bedroom that night?"

"Everyday. Anna do you know something?"

"Thomas, the footman, was assigned to Mr. Pamuk that day. The day after he looked quite fidgety, and he always looks very guilty when your name is mentioned in the servant's hall."

Mary calculated quickly, her fine, brilliant brain sketching out a little plan.

"Do you think you could arrange for Thomas to see me for a few minutes after dinner?"

Anna smiled, glad that she and her mistress were on the same wavelength.

"Certainly, milady."

Xx

Thomas the footman is a schemer. Perhaps not to the extent of that master deceiver Sarah O'Brien. However, our Thomas is a schemer with something of a conscience. With regards to the Incident of the Turk in the Night, he has been nursing a feeling of regret and guilt. Some of the guilt, I must admit, is connected to his worry over being found out, but there is still a sense of contrition, all the same. He is a lot more invested, anyway, in making life difficult for Mr. Bates. Any gossip he sent out regarding Lady Mary was instigated by Miss O'Brien.

Anna is also something of a schemer. She is torn about leaving the Abbey, only because it would leave Mr. Bates to the mercy of Thomas and Miss O'Brien. Anna fights fire with fire. Removing Thomas to a place where she can keep an eye on him, and maybe even appeal to the goodness in him, provides her with some relief. Besides, she is aware that a mind like Thomas' if put to good use, can be of use to Lady Mary. Anna is aware of a universal truth, that people only turn to the underhanded when they are in need of something to excite them, when they have time to curdle and feel bitter, or when their circumstances are oppressive. Bad deeds do not happen in a vacuum.

Thomas is nervous as he accompanies Anna to the Pink Room. Everyone knows that that is now Lady Mary's room, and he senses something of a dressing down. Robert and Cora are benign dictators, but the servants are well aware that Lady Mary is every inch the feudal.

"Ah, Thomas, " she says as they walk in, " thank you for coming to see me."

"Might I inquire as to the nature of the summons, milady?"

"Very good, Thomas, very good. I ask you here with a particular request. As you know, Mr. Crawley and I will be moving to London very shortly, and we would like to offer you the post of butler. Of course, you would also be valet to Mr. Crawley. We can provide you excellent compensation and a life in London. Would you like that?"

"Thank you milady. I would have to think about it." Thomas is eager to be in London, but not desirous to valet Mr. Crawley who's future is very much up in the air.

"Of course, of course. You have been a servant at Downton for a very long time, and you are loyal to the family and always have been."

"I have worked for the family a long time, yes milady." Thomas looks very uncomfortable.

"I understand that you looked after Mr. Pamuk when he was here. I wonder if he asked you to give him any tours of the house?"

Thomas is silent. A pregnant silence.

"I am not angry about that, Thomas. In fact, I am glad to know the truth. Thomas, there are many reasons why I have asked you to join us in London. One of which is to suggest that London present you with a kind of new start. More importantly, I recognise a restlessness in you. Mr. Crawley and I are both ambitious people. He may be the Earl one day, but if he is not, as he is terribly, terribly clever, I feel sure that he will ascend to a high office. As his wife, I can help him by entertaining influential people, and being part of powerful circles. A good butler is essential to that kind of social entertaining. Mr. Crawley will need to be properly dressed and supported in his journey. Won't you come and be a part of that journey? I dare say we shall need a man with his ear to the ground."

"That sounds very tempting milady."

"I am not asking for anything underhanded, Thomas. Just good, old fashioned hard work. The way things used to be. And we need your absolute loyalty. I promise it will be rewarded. "

"How soon would you need me? What would I tell Mr. Carson?"

"I will speak to Mr. Carson. I would hope you would be ready to leave with us after the wedding. You would valet Mr. Crawley on honeymoon and then we would all go to London together. As the butler, I would need your assistance with outfitting our residence and hiring the cook/housekeeper."

"I am happy to accept, Lady Mary."

Xx

That night, in the offices of the housekeeper and the butler, there was much rejoicing.

Mr. Bates and Anna also shared a quiet and happy cup of tea. Their romance had not fully blossomed yet but there was a sense of shared attraction. Mr. Bates noted that his mother lived in London and that he intended to visit her often in the coming year. Anna noted that the Crawleys intended to be at Downton every weekend. They both thought with happiness of the years to come, and Mr. Bates pondered the best course with regards to divorcing his wife.

And so, as Miss Austen says, everything was arranged to the felicity of all.


	22. Chapter 22

Bit of a trigger warning for the end of the chapter.  
She is beautiful, thought Tom Branson as he watched Sybil emerge from the house on a mild February morning . Clad in a light blue coat and hat, she looked as if all the joy in the world could be contained in her. He opened the door to the car to allow Cora and Sybil inside, thrilling a little at the touch of Sybil's hand as he helped her into the car.  
The two ladies were in high spirits on the way to the church. For Cora, there was a sense of relief that Mary was to be married and settled. Sybil was glad for Mary and for Matthew, and extremely pleased that Mary's better nature had shone through in the end. And besides, it was a wedding, who wouldn't be joyful?  
Tom watched Sybil in his rear-view mirror. He longed for her and knew already that his life would only feel complete if she was in it. Yet, he knew she was young, and that to declare his feelings would be to ask her to leave everything she knew. Besides, while he did guess that Sybil had a partiality towards him, he was aware that her feelings towards him were still those of friendship. Still, on this wedding day, he could not but dream a little dream. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his destination. He was called back to earth by a hoot of laughter.  
"Mr. Branson, Mr. Branson, you've gone right past the church gates!", laughed Sybil.  
"I am so sorry milady."  
Giggling like irresponsible schoolgirls, mother and daughter made their way into the church. Cora had a special place in her heart for her beauty , her baby, and with yet another daughter leaving the house, she clung to Sybil a little.  
His mind full of the pretty image of Sybil and her mother, Tom drove off to Crawley House to pick up the groom. Again, here, he was met with high spirits and laughter as Matthew and Charles came bounding out of the house in their morning suits. Isobel, watching them, thought of the joy and promise of youth and willed that they would both have great happiness.  
"Good morning Mr. Branson, " said Moseley, who, with the aid of the newly minted Mr. Barrow had been overseeing the dressing of the two young gentlemen and a hearty breakfast for the groom.  
"Will I see you both at the church?"  
"You will, indeed. I am to drive in the front with you and Mr. Barrow will come in the car with Mr. Spratt. He must have collected Lady Grantham by now and should be here shortly for Mrs. Crawley."  
"And not a second too late or he'll get a smack from Mr. Carson.", observed Mr. Barrow.  
Remembering Mr. Carson's earnest rehearsals for the staff of the day before, Tom had to agree. The butler's brows had been working overtime.  
The young men had said their goodbyes to Mrs. Crawley, and were getting in to the car. Tom reflected that he rather liked Mr. Crawley, and even Mr. Blake. He had had the chance to listen to some of their plans while ferrying them to the station. He felt no ill will towards them and thought to himself that they represented an aristocracy that he could cheerfully work alongside.  
As they got to the church, Matthew's chatter and banter with his best man slowed a little.  
"What is it, man? Nerves?" asked Charles.  
"I have to tell you Charles, I'm not quite sure that she will turn up."  
Tom laughed. Odds are she will. But then, even I know that Lady Mary is an unpredictable one.  
Xx  
Turn up she did, and Mary and Matthew were married in what seemed to them like a blaze of glory.  
The Dowager felt almost rhapsodic. Not only had she ensured that, in case Matthew inherited after all, that the Countess of Grantham would be a known entity, but Mary seemed genuinely happy. The Dowager had already started to pull in a few favours with regards to Matthew's career in the civil service, and she felt sure that the combination of social connection and Matthew's natural ability would see him to an illustrious position. And the icing on the cake, not that the Dowager needed one, was that business had called Martha Levinson back to the States, leaving the Dowager as the ruling matriarch of the day.  
After the ceremony, everyone trooped back to the Abbey for the wedding breakfast. The guests were an assortment of family, friends, and distant inclusions. It must be said that it was not the high society wedding that the Strallans had had. Matthew was not definitively the heir, and this had contributed to a slight drop in the numbers.  
"The problem is, " said Lady Shackleton to her daughter-in-law, when they had received the invitation, " that we don't know if we should purchase a gift appropriate to the wife of the next Earl of Grantham, or the wife of a country solicitor. It's all very vexing."  
So, in some ways, the celebration was really quite intimate. Or, as intimate as one can get with a wedding for a daughter of an Earl. The intimacy and lack of numbers stung at Mary a little, but every time she looked at Matthew, she felt that she could bear it all with good grace. When good grace seemed impossible, she took some pleasure from the fact that Edith was, for some reason, looking rather miserable.  
"Darling, I can't wait till we can leave and can just be alone together. I am afraid that I cannot quite keep all the guests straight in my head." Matthew is not the social butterfly that is wife is. What's more, he had never seen his wife look more beautiful, and his present longings were not actionable in a room full of people.  
"Oh it's very simple, darling. Besides you only need to remember some people. There are Billy and Amelia Skelton, our nearest neighbours. Amelia is all right, but Billy is completely mad. Well, all the Skeltons are mad, really, but nod and smile with them. If my nearest neighbour was what Granny calls very eccentric, I would keep them in my good graces. You need to give some attention to Lord and Lady Heywood, they have the ear of every government minister. Vivian MacDonald is studying for the bar, so he and his parents will be great allies. Freddie Threepwood is as sane as a hat full of pixies, but he will be the next Earl of Pembroke, and that is a peerage that wields a lot of influence. The Montgomerys are only here to gawp and giggle, but make sure you speak to Honoria. We came out together and she is also an ally. You can ignore Aunt Susan if you want to, but Uncle Shrimpie is a darling, and another ally. The Elliotts are good friends of Mama and Papa. Sybil is very intimate with Henrietta Elliott. George and Elinor Spencer are here. In my opinion, she should be put out to pasture, but he is, of course, a cousin of the Duke of Malborough. We should both make sure we speak to him."  
Matthew stares at his wife in amazement. " I rather think you would have made a good general."  
"I am a good general, Subaltern Crawley."  
Xx  
As the festivities wound down, Sybil slipped away to the grounds of the house. Mary and Matthew weren't leaving for another half hour, so she felt she could retreat a little from the guests. She walked to the bench under the sycamore tree and sat there in blessed silence.  
" Not enjoying the party, then?" asked a familiar voice.  
"Hello Mr. Branson. It is a good party, but I felt like a little quiet."  
"It's a good day. I am very happy for Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary. "  
"It is very romantic. They do love each other immensely."  
"You prefer when people marry for love, then?"  
"What a strange question. Well, I think it is the best possible reason for marriage, don't you?"  
"Lady Sybil, Her Ladyship is looking for you. Lady Mary and Mr Crawley are ready to leave.", interrupted Mrs Hughes, appearing as if from nowhere. Materialization from thin air is lesson the first in the Housekeeper's Handbook.  
Sybil hastened to the house. Mrs Hughes looked at Tom kindly. "Be careful my lad, or you'll end up with no job and a broken heart."  
Tom nodded at her, but could not stop himself from feeling elated over the substance of his brief exchange with Sybil.  
Xx  
As the Strallans retire to bed that night, there is not the same feeling of bliss. Edith, now married for six months, is beginning to be a little concerned at the absence of a little Strallan. She knows her husband is a proud man and she cannot approach him too directly on the subject.  
"Anthony, may I ask you something?"  
"Of course, my sweet one. You have been looking very thoughtful all day, I have been concerned."  
"It is nothing. I just wondered why you and Frances never had any children. Did you not want any?"  
Anthony considers his answer carefully.  
" We did give it the old try, but I can't say that there was a concentrated effort. Frances was not very interested in that sort of thing. Of course, we did intend to seal up the succession and all that, but she died only three years into our marriage, you see."  
"Three years is still a long time."  
"You know, Frances and I were good friends. Old friends. We grew up together, you see. We had an understanding."  
"I don't quite understand you darling."  
"Frances was a wonderful woman. And like I said, she wasn't very interested in that part of the marriage. She had more singular attractions, if you know what I mean. Of course, I didn't mind. I was happy enough to know that we would have a strong and affectionate marriage. And we would have done our duty in the end. In my generation, a lot went unsaid. "  
It took Edith a few minutes to quite understand what Anthony was relating to her. She remembered a silly laugh that she had shared with Annabelle Flintshire over a rumour regarding the Countess of Brandon. She felt a kind of admiration for her husband, although she couldn't quite think why.  
"My sweet one, are you anxious that we have no child on the horizon?"  
"Yes darling, I ache to have a baby."  
"It's early days yet. I am in no hurry. The baby will come in time."  
After her husband fell asleep, Edith said a silent prayer. It was a prayer of thanksgiving for the husband she had, and a prayer of hope for the child she longed for.  
Xx  
A week later, Cora awoke to sharp, stabbing pains in her lower back. She roused Robert who immediately sent for the doctor.  
When he arrived, Dr. Clarkson removed Robert from the room and called in Sybil.  
"I need you to be ready to assist me, Lady Sybil."  
"Of course, Doctor, but what is happening?"  
The doctor sat by Cora's bed and took her hand very gently.  
"Lady Grantham, I fear that you are in the first stages of a miscarriage. It is something that is always feared when the mother is over forty years of age. My preference is to induce labour, but I do not think that the child will survive, either way. "  
Cora cried silently. "Have you asked his Lordship?"  
"I will but it is your choice first."  
"I want to be able to hold the baby. Even if it is only for a few seconds." And Cora lay back, panting from the pains that were increasing in their frequency.  
Several hours later, Arthur Isidore Crawley breathed the first of his few breaths. His sister, who had helped deliver him, wrapped him in soft cloths, her tears dropping down onto his little face.  
She placed him in their mother's arms, and went out to call her father.  
In the glorious, early light of the morning, Robert and Cora held their son. They whispered to him and sang to him, and that entire hour of his short life was heartbreakingly beautiful. Cora would always remember it as both the happiest and saddest hour of her life.  
At the end of that hour, Robert hugged the tiny little body to himself. Lines of poetry from another's grief entered his mind. Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell.  
Xx  
Sorry to end in such a sad way, please don't be annoyed. Life is both joy and sorrow, and this is my tribute to my three close friends who have all had miscarriages this past year. I think it will make Cora and Robert have a stronger marriage, and will also affect Sybil, Mary and Edith in proportionate ways.


End file.
